


No Strangers Here

by AmberBrown



Series: Earning Their Keep [23]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-23 21:27:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15615396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmberBrown/pseuds/AmberBrown
Summary: ‘I used to have a customer there, the local landowner...what was his name?’ Bonacieux looked into the distance for a few seconds, ‘Droit...little squat man, I...found him not to my liking.’Athos was intrigued, ‘why was that monsieur?’‘I’m not one to gossip, but I got the distinct impression he was involved in the slave trade.’Athos could not help a slight look of shock.‘Not the slavers who deal with the Americas,’ continued Bonacieux, ‘the Barbary coast slavers.’





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a fairly short piece, but it has rather run away from me. It is finished, and I shall post two chapters a day after this one. 
> 
> If you have not read the other stories in the series all you need to know is that Aramis and d’Artagnan are in an established relationship. Other incidents in the series are mentioned but you do not need to have read the stories to understand this one. (Although I will note which stories they are from in case you do want to read them!)
> 
> ‘There are no strangers here; Only friends you haven't met yet.’  
> William Butler Yeats.

‘At least Treville has allowed me back on light duties now,’ said d’Artagnan with a yawn.

Aramis sipped his wine as he looked at the fire, enjoying the closeness to the relaxed Musketeer who was lying next to him. D’Artagnan had been allowed to take some cadets through some sword drills earlier in the day and was now almost at the point of falling asleep on the couch in front of the fire. Aramis had already had to relieve the younger man of his wine glass before he tipped its contents over them. 

‘And you will probably be stiff again tomorrow because you’ve pushed yourself,’ admonished Aramis as he went back to reading his book. 

Wisely Aramis had arranged themselves so that the tired man was lying by the back of the couch and Aramis was perched on the edge. He was perfectly comfortable, despite his proximity to the short drop to the floor. It had taken them a little bit of time to work out how to arrange themselves on the purloined piece of furniture but now they could stretch out quite happily for hours at a time enjoying the warmth from the fire. 

‘I forgot, there’s a letter for you,’ said Aramis, causing d’Artagnan to open his eyes and look up at him.

‘From Gosse?’

‘No, but it’s on the same paper that he uses.’

Intrigued d’Artagnan sat up slightly, Aramis crossed the small room to the table and picked up the sealed letter, he passed it to d’Artagnan before settling himself back on the couch looking up at his lover who had already broken the plain seal and was unfolding the paper. 

Remy Gosse was a young man that the pair had saved from a life a sexual servitude a few months previously. He had returned to the village he had grown up in and had taken to writing to d’Artagnan who responded in kind. Gosse had been mistreated and had found it difficult to trust other people again, but since they had rescued him he had become more confident in himself. They got the impression he was not entirely happy being back in his home village, the last letter they had received indicated that he was saving what little money he had so that he could return to Paris and seek work.

Aramis watched d’Artagnan’s face as he read the letter, his brow furrowed. D’Artagnan looked at Aramis for a second before handing him the letter to read.

_‘Monsieur,_

_Please forgive my writing to you, but I believe you might be the only person who will believe me and might be able to help me._

_I found your letters amongst my son’s belongings. It seems you know what he is and for whatever reason have no issue with his need to go against our Lord’s words._

_I love my son but cannot understand his need to be as he is. But that is not why I am writing to you, monsieur._

_Remy has been taken from me. Some men took him, I saw it happen. They grabbed him as he was making his way home, my son tried to fight back but they beat him and took him anyway. I am a poor widow, there was nothing I could do, I am ashamed to say that I hid for fear of the men causing me harm._

_I recognised the men as workers for our landowner._

_Please, Monsieur d’Artagnan, you are a soldier, please help my son. If it makes a difference, you should know that other young men in the village and neighbouring villages have been taken as well._

_My son may be ill of the mind, but he is still my son…’ ___

__Aramis looked up at d’Artagnan, ‘what’s that about then?’_ _

__D’Artagnan shook his head, ‘he doesn’t mention his mother much after she found out about him their relationship broke down, but she didn’t turn him in. I think she just tolerates him living there until he can find somewhere else...Who could have taken him?’_ _

__Aramis reread the letter, ‘if other young men are being taken as well, I doubt this is a targeted attack.’_ _

__Aramis thought for a moment watching the concern play over his lover’s face._ _

__‘We’ll talk to Treville in the morning, we need more information before we can really do anything.’_ _

__D’Artagnan nodded reluctantly, Aramis could tell the younger man wanted to deal with the situation straight away. But they could not just disappear in the middle of the night on a rescue mission._ _

__Aramis pulled d’Artagnan back down to lie beside him, he wrapped an arm around his lover as he did so. D’Artagnan took a few seconds but did relax with a sigh._ _

__‘We can’t just rush in. We need to find out what’s going on first. I know you’ve grown fond of your little admirer, and we’ll do what we can to find him and restore him to his rather unwelcoming mother.’_ _

__D’Artagnan nodded but did not respond. Aramis could tell his lover was worried about the young man who had already had a difficult start in life after making a bad decision and allowing himself to be used and abused for a few months before he was liberated by them._ _

__They lay together for a few more minutes before Aramis roused d’Artagnan again._ _

__‘Let’s get to bed, we can go to the garrison early and see what the Captain has to say.’_ _

__‘Thank you,’ said d’Artagnan._ _

__‘What for? Just because you’re the one he likes doesn’t mean I’m not worried as well.’_ _

__Aramis was pleased to see a slight grin play across d’Artagnan’s mouth as he accepted the gentle teasing. Aramis remembered how embarrassed d’Artagnan had been relating to him how Gosse had kissed him in a misguided moment when d’Artagnan was seeing the young man off on his journey home._ _

__Aramis suspected they would be in for a few testing days, he hoped he would see the younger man smiling again soon._ _

__MMMM_ _

__Treville sighed as he looked up at d’Artagnan, he handed the letter back to the young Musketeer._ _

__‘I think you know what I’m going to say.’_ _

__‘You can’t spare us?’ suggested Aramis who was standing a couple of paces behind d’Artagnan._ _

__Treville shook his head, ‘not quite, I can’t spare both of you. D’Artagnan, you’re still on light duties, but Aramis is fully back to work now and we are already missing a few other men. I’ve got two sick and one off on compassionate leave. There aren’t enough cadets that can step up to fill the gaps and still maintain their training.’_ _

__‘But you could spare d’Artagnan?’ said Aramis._ _

__Treville looked toward Aramis, as he hid his shock at the suggestion. He knew that Aramis had been accused a few times by the younger man of being too protective of him, so this was a change. Aramis appeared to have read Treville’s mind._ _

__‘He can go and ask questions, we have so little information none of us would be able to do anything anyway.’_ _

__Treville continued for him, ‘and in a couple of days’ time when I am back to full strength I can send you to join him, possibly with Athos and Porthos.’_ _

__D’Artagnan was looking at Treville hopefully after the exchange between him and Aramis. After reading the letter from Gosse’s mother Treville knew he would have to do something. The young man had been instrumental in helping to rescue d’Artagnan and Porthos from the very men that had been keeping him in servitude. Treville knew that they owed the young man a debt._ _

__‘You will be careful, d’Artagnan, you will not help Gosse if you rush into something unprepared. The chances are you will need back up and if that means waiting a day then wait you will.’_ _

__D’Artagnan nodded his agreement, although Treville suspected his words would be ignored. He expected nothing less from one of his best men. Responding to situations as they arose generally meant ignoring orders, and Treville had no issue with it as long as whatever his men did was sensible._ _

__With a shake of his head, Treville continued, ‘I still regret sending you both on the mission, although rescuing Gosse is a small ray of light from it.’_ _

__Aramis closed the gap between himself and the desk where Treville was sat, ‘Captain, you know that we do not blame you for what happened on that mission. We didn’t have to infiltrate the Comte’s men, you gave us other options.’_ _

__Treville nodded, he had originally thought his idea of having Aramis and d’Artagnan infiltrate the group of men masquerading as a minor nobleman and his subservient companion was a good idea. But the subsequent events and affect the mission had on his men proved him wrong. Neither man had been badly injured physically but the mental scars had lasted for a while._ _

__‘Thank you, Aramis, I know that neither of you blames me for that, but I still blame myself,’ said Treville with a sad smile, ‘d’Artagnan, you have leave to go when you are ready, please be careful and wait for Aramis to join you in a couple of days’ time. If I can spare the others I will.’_ _

__‘Thank you, Captain,’ said d’Artagnan with a small bow._ _

__Treville watched the two men leave his office. He sighed, wishing there was more he could do to help them and the young man who was missing._ _

__MMMM_ _

__D’Artagnan watched as Aramis saddled his horse and checked the tack and saddlebags were all strapped on properly. He rolled his eyes at the thought of the moment a few minutes before when his lover had gently pushed him away from the saddle and insisted he would deal with readying the horse. Despite his promise not to be protective of him, Aramis did not appear to be able to help himself. D’Artagnan found it endearing now that it was no longer a big issue between the two of them._ _

__Aramis had surprised him when he suggested that he go alone to start investigating Gosse’s kidnapping. D’Artagnan had thought that once Treville had said they could not both be spared Aramis would have become annoyed if d’Artagnan suggested he go on his own. Perhaps, thought d’Artagnan with amusement, Aramis had finally decided that he could be trusted to look after himself. It was not as if Aramis had not needed looking after a few times in the recent months._ _

__‘Do not get into any trouble,’ said Aramis as he double checked the tack, ‘and do not strain that shoulder. You’re not fully fit yet.’_ _

__D’Artagnan checked that they were alone and unobserved before stepping up behind his lover and slipping his arms around Aramis’ waist pulling him back slightly._ _

__‘I will behave, I will wait for you and the others,’ he said quietly into Aramis’ ear._ _

__‘You’d better or we will be having words,’ said Aramis in a mock authoritative tone._ _

__Aramis pushed himself away from d’Artagnan’s grasp, turned and pulled him in for a kiss._ _

__‘But seriously d’Artagnan,’ said Aramis after pushing him to arm’s length, ‘be careful. You’re not fully fit and I want you back in one piece even if by saying that you think I’m being overprotective.’_ _

__D’Artagnan smiled, ‘I will do my best.’_ _

__‘I ask nothing more,’ replied Aramis, ‘let’s get your admirer back.’_ _

__‘How long are you going to be reminding me about that for?’ asked d’Artagnan as he pushed his lover away playfully and mounted up._ _

__‘Until I get bored with it,’ said Aramis with a grin._ _

__The light-hearted conversation belied the worry that both men had for Gosse. The young man may have only been in their lives briefly, but he had left an impression._ _

__‘I’ll start with Gosse’s mother and then try the landowner if I can’t find accommodation in the village I’ll let Madam Gosse know where I am.’_ _

__Aramis nodded, ‘we’ll be there as soon as we can,’ he said._ _

__As d’Artagnan urged his horse forward and out of the stable Aramis followed him out. D’Artagnan looked back with a nod to his lover before pushing the horse into a trot and leaving the garrison._ _

__It was only a few hours ride to the village where Gosse lived, he knew he would easily reach it by late afternoon. D’Artagnan intended to start his enquiries as soon as he could. He was not particularly looking forward to talking to Madam Gosse, he knew he would have to bite his tongue regarding her views on her son’s proclivities. Both men had been careful in their letters not to mention their sexual preferences. D’Artagnan could only imagine Gosse had told his mother when he had returned to live with her. The widow would have been upset that there was no chance of her son finding a wife and having children of his own. But d’Artagnan would treat her as a worried parent missing her son, not as a woman whose judgement was clouded by her religious teachings._ _

__He wondered what the reason was for taking the young men? And what did the local landowner have to do with the kidnappings? There was clearly something untoward going on in the village and local area. D’Artagnan hoped that he and his brothers when they arrived, could deal with the issue with no harm coming to them or the men who had been attacked._ _


	2. Chapter 2

As d’Artagnan approached the village he slowed the cantering horse. He realised quickly that his presence was going to cause a stir. A Musketeer turning up in a small village was not something that could be ignored. An old man shuffled into the road ahead of him, the jacket he wore had multiple patches sewn on it. There appeared to be more patches than original fabric. The man, with a wispy beard, raised his hand indicating for d’Artagnan to stop.

‘Have you come about the men?’ he asked.

D’Artagnan knew better than to simply state his business if he wanted to get information from the man.

‘What men?’

‘The ones who’ve disappeared. Claire’s been going on about them, says her sons been taken by Droit.’

D’Artagnan shook his head pretending that he did not know what the man was talking about. 

‘Droit’s our landlord. He’s a firm man, I’ve seen him throw out families who haven’t paid him. I think Madam Gosse is using her son’s disappearance to gain sympathy. It’s not the first time he’s disappeared. Lad came back a few months ago after a long time away...now he’s gone off again. Woman’s mad if she thinks people will believe her.’

‘You said that more than one man has disappeared,’ remarked d’Artagnan trying not to sound too interested in the old man. 

‘Oh, men run off,’ said the man dismissively, ‘there’s not many prospects here, the land is not that rich. They go to Paris, they join the army...they go.’

The man looked d’Artagnan up and down for a few seconds before continuing. 

‘Claire said she had written to a soldier,’ he said, ‘it must be you, there’s no other reason for you to be here.’

‘You don’t know that,’ said d’Artagnan.

‘Son, I wasn’t born yesterday,’ replied the man with an exasperated look, ‘if you want to see Madam Gosse, her house is on the other side of the village, there’s a goat in a small paddock at the side.’

The man stepped back and pointed across the village, d’Artagnan followed his gaze, seeing the small house in question. The brown goat was staring across the centre of the village at him as it chewed on some hay. 

‘Thank you, monsieur,’ said d’Artagnan with a nod. 

‘Fool’s errand, you should be back in Paris protecting the King,’ muttered the old man as he wandered off. 

D’Artagnan did not agree. 

MMMM

The tavern was busy, but the table the three Musketeers were sat at was quiet. The three men had adjourned to the tavern in the hope of taking their minds off recent events. It had not worked. Aramis had remained unusually quiet and distracted, which Porthos could perfectly understand. 

The man Aramis loved had gone off, alone, to investigate the disappearance of a man that all of them would hate to see harm come to. Gosse had been a key player in his and d’Artagnan’s rescue from the men who had attacked and imprisoned them both. Porthos was keen to see the man liberated from whichever unscrupulous people had forcefully taken him. Both he and Athos had been shocked when Aramis had related to them what had happened that morning. Now, all they could do was wait for Treville to give them leave to go to d’Artagnan’s assistance. 

‘What reason is there for taking young men from the area? All the landowner is doing is making it harder for his tenants to pay their rent. Without the men, who will tend to the land and livestock?’ Porthos looked at his brothers who did not respond. 

‘Is d’Artagnan ready to be out there?’ asked Aramis after a few seconds of silence. 

Porthos watched as Aramis fiddled with his cup of wine, turning it slowly in his hand, not looking up. Porthos reached out and took the cup from his friend, placing it on the table. Aramis looked up at him.

‘He will be fine, he is more than capable of looking after himself. His shoulder is not going to stop him fighting, it might slow him down a bit, but he is still going to be quicker and better than anyone he is likely to encounter,’ said Porthos holding his friends gaze.

‘And,’ said Athos, ‘he has been given strict instructions not to put himself in any danger…’

‘Which he will ignore,’ remarked Aramis with a slight smile.

‘Wouldn’t we all,’ pointed out Porthos.

Athos picked up his cup of wine, drained it and put it back on the table before reaching for his hat, ‘I suggest we call it a night, we need to be ready to join him when Treville allows us.’

Clapping Aramis on the shoulder Porthos said, ‘Athos is right, there’s no point sitting here worrying about him, we’ll be able to join him soon enough.’

As they left the tavern Porthos thought back to how frightened Gosse had been when he had witnessed one of his masters callously shoot another man. Gosse had made a few poor choices, but they had set him straight, it was unfortunate that he was now suffering another misadventure in his young life. Porthos hoped the young man was not being mistreated and that they could get him back in one piece. 

MMMM

The brown goat continued to keep its devil like eyes on him as he dismounted and looped the horse’s reins over the fence around the paddock. D’Artagnan found the creatures gaze unnerving. 

‘Monsieur d’Artagnan?’ 

D’Artagnan turned away from the goat and looked at the petite woman who had appeared in the doorway of the small low roofed house. 

Madam Gosse was looking up at him with eyes full of tears. The woman did not appear to have slept in days, her blonde hair was swept up in a loose pleat. She wore a plain dress of dark blue with a couple of patches on the sleeves where the repetitive work of a rural woman had worn the fabric through. 

D’Artagnan nodded, ‘I got your letter, is he still missing?’

The woman nodded as the tears spilt from her eyes, ‘I love my son, despite what he has become...and you have clearly befriended him despite it as well. Thank you so much for coming.’

D’Artagnan struggled not to make a flippant comment, he knew he should be grateful that the woman at least cared enough to want her son safe again.

‘I need you to tell me everything you can,’ he said as he walked up to her.

She stood aside and indicated for him to enter her house, he had to duck under the low door frame to reach the main room. A small fire was burning in the hearth; a pot simmering above it. A thin curtain partially hid a small bed in one corner of the room while a steep stair reached a small roof space where d’Artagnan could see blankets and a second straw mattress. 

‘Please, sit,’ Madam Gosse pointed at a wooden chair by the fire.

He sat down carefully, worried the rickety looking chair would not support his weight. Madam Gosse sat opposite him on a wooden stool.

‘Tell me from the beginning,’ said d’Artagnan.

‘Remy has been working for one of the farmers in the next village, the man pays my son what he can, but it’s not much. It was a week ago...I had to wait for a merchant to come through who could take a letter to Paris, to you.’

She paused and sniffed a couple of times. D’Artagnan had suspected that they had already lost precious days between Gosse being taken and his mother managing to get the letter to him. 

‘I was in the spinney of trees between here and the farm where he was working. I knew he would be on his way home and was expecting to meet him...there are herbs that grow there, I was collecting what I needed. I saw four of Monsieur Droit’s men creeping along the side of the spinney. They are big men, not as tall as you, but broad and strong. I find them intimidating.’

D’Artagnan nodded, he guessed that most men would be intimidating to the small woman sat opposite him 

‘I crouched down and kept still. I watched as they moved to the edge of the road. I saw Remy walking along. He had not seen the men. Somehow I knew what was going to happen, but I...I couldn’t do anything...I wanted to...he’s my son, but I was scared, I couldn’t move…’

Fresh tears fell down Madam Gosse’s cheeks, she wiped them away with her hand. She looked at the fire for a few seconds as she took a few deep shuddering breaths. 

‘They grabbed him, monsieur, he didn’t stand a chance. He hit out at one of them, but they were bigger than him. You’ve met him, he’s slight and has inherited my small stature. They took him. I watched as they bound his wrists and gagged him. One of the men picked him up and put him over their shoulder. They walked away...they took my son.’

‘The men, did you recognise them?’

‘They were definitely Droit’s men,’ said Madam Gosse, ‘I recognise them from when he’s been in the village. They beat a man who could not pay his rent. They are brutes, monsieur.’

D’Artagnan considered his options. The evidence pointed towards the landowner. He would have to investigate further. He had been told not to put himself in danger but considering the length of time Gosse had been missing d’Artagnan knew he had to act fast. 

‘There will be more soldiers coming in the next couple of days,’ he said to Madam Gosse, ‘I am going to visit Monsieur Droit, if I do not return to you tonight tell them where I have gone.’

Madam Gosse looked at him for a few seconds, ‘you’re going to go there?’

‘I will observe, I don’t intend to walk up to his door,’ replied d’Artagnan with a smile, ‘but just in case something happens, I need to know that my friends will be updated. Tell them everything you have told me.’

The small woman nodded, ‘thank you, Monsieur, you are too kind to my boy. I wish he could be more like you.’

D’Artagnan struggled not to react the remark, he wondered what Madam Gosse would say if she knew just how similar he was to her son. He nodded to her and rose from the chair.

Madam Gosse watched him walk away, he could feel her eyes on him until he had remounted and started along the road towards Droit’s chateau.


	3. Chapter 3

D’Artagnan found himself a spot a couple of hundred yards from the chateau. A stone wall surrounded the impressive building, but a lack of maintenance had left a gap where a tree had fallen in recent storms. He had left his horse hidden in a small stand of trees and settled down to observe Droit’s home for a while. 

The building of typically symmetrical design was three storeys high with several large windows across the ground floor with more smaller windows above, indicating many bedrooms.

If the chateau was being used to keep people captive, d’Artagnan suspected they would be kept in the cellars; the most secure area of the building. Most likely there would be two entrances to the chateau’s cellars, one via the kitchens or servant’s quarters and hopefully one from the outside. 

What d’Artagnan hoped, was that Droit did not keep too many men on his payroll to help him collect his rent money. D’Artagnan was good but even he had his limits. He knew that the longer he waited, the less chance he would have to free Gosse. He did not think he could wait for his brothers to arrive. 

He wondered, not for the first time, if the disappearances of the other local young men were linked. It was surely more than a coincidence. Madam Gosse had intimated in her letter that she thought it was linked and had clearly been trying to make the other villagers think so as well. But as the old man he had talked to said, men did run off if there were few prospects. 

Had the men left to seek a better life in Paris? Or as d’Artagnan now believed, were they also taken by Droit’s men?

Two men were slowly making their way along the perimeter wall, d’Artagnan spotted them when they were still some distance away. They were thick set big men, shorter than himself but they looked strong and were probably handy with their fists. D’Artagnan wondered if these were a couple of the men responsible for taking Gosse a few days before, they fit the description his mother had given. 

The position d’Artagnan had settled himself in meant that the men would see him. D’Artagnan had a few seconds to make his mind up, he could either slip away and let the men pass or he could remain where he was and be found. Deciding that the latter option, although risky made more sense, d’Artagnan continued to look at the chateau and pretended he had not noticed the men approaching.

‘A Musketeer,’ sneered one of the men as he reached d’Artagnan. 

The man, dressed in a fancy leather doublet that d’Artagnan suspected Porthos would have been envious of, was aiming a gun in his direction. D’Artagnan looked across at the man. 

‘Good evening, gentlemen,’ he said nonchalantly. 

‘What you doin’ here?’ said the other man whose face was pockmarked.

‘I am observing your master’s chateau.’

‘Why you doin’ that then?’

‘I am here on the Kings business. Business with your master, not you,’ replied d’Artagnan without looking across to the man. 

The man with the fancy doublet stepped forward, ‘well you’d better come with us and meet ‘im then.’

D’Artagnan had no intention of resisting the men, the longer he could pretend to be compliant the more chance he had of gathering information. The men would not be as guarded when they spoke, they already appeared to be of limited intelligence. He rose from his spot by the fallen tree and after the gunman indicated with his weapon the direction they were to go he walked ahead of the men. He wisely kept his hands in view and away from his own weapons. 

The men did not get close to him, keeping a few feet between them. Close enough to kill him with a gunshot wound but far enough away that d’Artagnan could not surprise the men with an attack. They may not have been particularly intelligent, but they knew how to deal with a potentially dangerous man.

As they approached the house a portly man appeared at the door. The man was wearing a preposterous green doublet with more lace and frills than was strictly necessary to show his wealth. D’Artagnan suspected he was about to meet the landowner; Monsieur Droit.

MMMM

‘What’s this?’ asked Droit as d’Artagnan was walked towards him.

‘Your men did not like me observing your magnificent house,’ said d’Artagnan before either man could answer.

The man with the gun said, ‘found him over by the gap in the wall.’

Droit looked d’Artagnan up and down for a few seconds, the man appeared to be thinking before he nodded to the men stood behind him. The nod was subtle, meant to go unnoticed, but d’Artagnan saw it and was immediately on his guard. He realised he might be about to unintentionally infiltrate the chateau. D’Artagnan decided it might not be a bad idea.

‘What is your business here?’

‘I’ve been sent to investigate some disappearances in the area. Young men have been going missing...do you know anything about that?’

Droit tilted his head back a little and looked down his nose at d’Artagnan who had to try very hard not to roll his eyes. 

‘Perhaps you would like to come in where we can talk more comfortably?’ he said.

D’Artagnan smiled with as much civility as he could muster and climbed the four steps to the door passing the landowner and entering the chateau.

A large entrance hall with several doors opening off it and an impressive staircase in the centre greeted d’Artagnan. Droit appeared beside him, watching him look about the place. 

‘Not as impressive as the Palace I suspect, but I am pleased with it.’

‘Indeed,’ said d’Artagnan turning to the short, squat man. 

Droit waved his hand towards an open door, ushering d’Artagnan into an impressive library. Bookshelves filled all the walls, books of varying sizes filled each shelf in turn.

D’Artagnan was aware of the gunman still loitering in the doorway, his gun now hanging loosely by his side, but the threat was still there. Keeping his outward look calm and collected d’Artagnan wished his inner self, felt the same. He knew he was walking into a trap. But he hoped that, as the other men who had disappeared had not turned up dead anywhere, he would not be killed. Although, he was a soldier and perhaps not what Droit was looking for. 

‘Are you alone?’ asked the landowner. ‘Are there no other soldiers?’

‘I’m alone, I’m to gather information and report back to my Captain who will, in turn, report to the King. The disappearances are of concern to his Majesty.’

‘I see, and how long have you been given to collect your information?’

D’Artagnan knew exactly what the man was doing, he was, in a roundabout way, asking if there would be any backup coming and if he would be missed. D'Artagnan was only too happy to oblige the man with the answers he wanted to hear. At the same time, he sent up a silent prayer to his brothers to not take too long in reaching the village and learning where he was. 

‘A couple of days, it only takes one man to gather intelligence,’ remarked d’Artagnan looking around the room and subtly checking on the two guards who had crept a little closer. 

Droit had moved to stand behind his desk, he looked down and opened a drawer before slowly reaching in. As the man pulled out a small gun d’Artagnan instinctively reached for his own gun. 

‘Don’t bother monsieur,’ said Droit with a smile, ‘would you enjoy being shot in the back?’

Knowing he could not be too submissive, he could not let the men know he wanted them to take him captive, he paused for a few seconds as if thinking. He slowly moved his hands away from his weapons.

‘What is the meaning of this?’ he said. ‘First, your men bring me to you at gunpoint, and now you are threatening me. I am a King’s Musketeer if you threaten me you threaten the King.’

Droit shook his head, ‘you’ve already told me that no one else is coming here. You, my friend, are on your own. If you wish to remain alive and unharmed you will do as you are told...you belong to me now.’

The final phrase was a little worrying to d’Artagnan. He did not like the idea of belonging to anyone, it brought back images of the impassive men who were kept and abused. It reminded d’Artagnan of Gosse before he was rescued by them. Surely this was not going to be a similar situation?

The pockmarked guard had moved around to stand in front of him.

‘Take off your weapons belt,’ he ordered. 

Slowly, so as not to give the two guards a reason to harm him he undid the belt and draped it over the back of a nearby chair. As the guard approached him he held out his arms so that he could be searched. The man was thorough, running his hands around his waist and down each arm and leg, feeling into the top of his boots. Finding no further weapons, the man stood up, he reached out and grabbed d’Artagnan by the shoulders and turned him around before pushing him towards the door. D’Artagnan shrugged away from the man’s grip but did walk in the direction he was pushed. 

‘I’ll follow you down, don’t start without me, I want to see this one personally.’

D’Artagnan was again unnerved by the phrasing. A small part of him was starting to wonder if he had made a mistake to allow himself to be taken by these men. But it was too late now, he doubted he could fight his way past them both and get away without being shot in the back as he ran. He would have to go along with them and hope to find Gosse and free themselves quickly. 

The pockmarked man grabbed him firmly by the arm and would not be shrugged off a second time. D’Artagnan was walked to the back of the large hall, to a plain door. The door was pushed open by the man and he was forced down a set of stone steps. 

The cellar looked well maintained, almost as if it had recently been cleaned and repaired. At the bottom of the stairs was a room with a door leading off it. The room was bare apart from a small table and chair with a notebook and pen laid out on it. The pockmarked man pushed d’Artagnan away. The other man indicated for him to stand by the wall opposite the stairs. 

‘What do you think he’ll do?’ asked the pockmarked man.

‘He looks strong, he’s a soldier, should be fit. Doubt they’d want him as a personal servant. But I bet he’ll need a fair bit of discipline to get him compliant.’

D’Artagnan had several thoughts about what the men were talking about. None of his thoughts were pleasant.

Droit walked down the stairs, stopping on the second to last step so that he was slightly higher than the men in the room. He nodded once before turning to look at d’Artagnan. 

‘Strip,’ he said, ‘everything. If you do not do it on your own I will call in more men and they will do it for you and trust me they are not gentle souls.’

D’Artagnan decided that getting himself caught by the men was not the good idea he had thought it was.


	4. Chapter 4

Trying desperately to not show the shake in his hands d’Artagnan slowly undid the buttons of his doublet. He had expected to be pushed about, restrained even, but being forced to strip by the three men in front of him was not his first thought. 

Droit was watching him carefully the two men were both now holding their guns roughly aimed in his direction. D’Artagnan knew he had no choice. He was trapped with no escape that did not involve him getting hurt or killed. 

He dropped his doublet on the floor and using the wall to lean on pulled off his boots and stockings. He paused for a moment looking at the men. The guard with the fancy doublet flicked his gun to indicate that d’Artagnan should continue.

As he undid his breeches and untucked his shirt d’Artagnan wondered if he now felt the same as Aramis had all those years ago, being forced into submission to keep them both alive. Thinking of Aramis and knowing that his lover and brothers would be on their way gave d’Artagnan a ray of hope. He just had to keep himself safe for a day or two...but a lot could happen in that time. 

He pushed his breeches down and stepped out of them before tugging his shirt over his head and finally pushing his underclothes off, he decided to just get on with what they wanted rather than drag out the inevitable. 

He stood up, staring at the men as defiantly as he could whilst standing naked in front of them, trying not to show the fear that was bubbling below the surface. 

The three men looked at him for a few moments. The guard with the fancy doublet did not disguise his interest. He very obviously raked his eyes over d’Artagnan’s body. The pockmarked man did not seem as interested but he was still looking. 

Droit descended the last couple of steps and crossed to the small table. He pulled out the chair and sat down. He remained at the table writing in the notebook, looking up at d’Artagnan for a few moments before he rose and walked up to his captive. The guards repositioned themselves so that Droit was not in between them and d'Artagnan.

The short man slowly circled d’Artagnan, looking him up and down as he did so. When he had returned to stand in front of him, Droit reached up and gently pressed a finger against the recently healed gunshot wound to d’Artagnan’s shoulder. 

D’Artagnan could not help flinching away at the touch. Although healing well the wound was still tender.

‘That will devalue him,’ muttered Droit. ‘Do you still have full movement in your arm and shoulder?’

D’Artagnan remained silent.

‘I can get them to find out for me?’ Droit nodded to the guards. ‘Michel would probably be only too happy to manipulate you to my liking.’

The guard with the fancy doublet smiled at d’Artagnan before winking.

‘My shoulder is still stiff on occasion, but I have full movement, the wound’s healed well,’ said d’Artagnan quietly. 

D’Artagnan maintained eye contact with Droit as he spoke despite wanting nothing more than to grab his clothes and run from the cellar. 

‘Have you ever lain with a man?’ asked Droit.

D’Artagnan felt his breathing quicken slightly.

‘Be honest man, I can get him to check.’

Again, Droit indicated Michel who took a small step forward. D’Artagnan glanced at Michel before looking back at Droit. The thought of letting the guard near him was abhorrent. 

D’Artagnan nodded once before finding he had to look away.

Droit took a couple of steps back and looked d’Artagnan up and down again before returning to the table. He made further notes before looking across to the guards.

‘He’s probably too scarred to be sold as a personal slave anyway, but he’s strong and provided that shoulder does not cause him problems I think he will fetch a good price,’ Droit paused for a second looking at d’Artagnan again, ‘give him clothes and put him with the others.’

Rising from the table Droit took the notebook and ascended the stairs disappearing from sight. The pockmarked guard had pulled a key from his pocket and opened the other door. He stepped into the next room for a few seconds before returning with a bundle of clothes.

He tossed the clothes at d’Artagnan.

‘Get dressed, you can keep your own boots.’

D’Artagnan did not need telling twice, although he fumbled with the buttons on the breeches a couple of times he managed to dress himself quickly. He pulled on his boots as Michel approached him. The man grabbed his arm and guided him towards the door.

‘You were asking about men going missing in the area...you’re about to meet them.’

D’Artagnan was pushed through the door. He found himself in another room, much larger than the first. Barred walls created four cells around the room. In each cell, several men were stood or sat staring at him. The men were all young, some looked as though they had put up resistance when they had been kidnapped, bruises on their faces were still fading.

The men were all young, d'Artagnan realised he was probably the oldest of them. Some of them were still boys. Most of the younger men and boys looked terrified. D’Artagnan guessed they had all been through the same process he had which was hard for him, but for a naive young man or boy would have been very frightening. 

The door to the closest cell was pulled open, d’Artagnan allowed Michel to push him in. He turned as the door was closed. Michel winked at him again before walking off. The two men left the cellar closing the door behind them. D’Artagnan heard a lock being turned.

Without realising it he found that his breathing had sped up and he felt a little light headed. He flinched slightly when hands grabbed his shoulders.

‘Sit down,’ said a quiet voice, ‘take a minute to calm down.’

D’Artagnan managed to look up at the man who had spoken. It was Gosse.

MMMM

D’Artagnan allowed Gosse to push him to sit on the floor, leaning against the wall. A couple of other young men were in the same cell, they were huddled together in the corner near to some of the men in the next cell.

‘How are you here?’ asked Gosse as he looked d’Artagnan over.

Gosse had gained in confidence since he had been liberated from the man who had effectively enslaved him. Even in the few seconds since they had been reunited d’Artagnan was surprised at how calm the young man was. 

‘Your mother...she wrote to me.’

Gosse looked surprised.

‘She found my letters to you. I visited her earlier today, she’s very worried about you.’

Gosse scowled for a moment, an expression that d’Artagnan had not seen on the man before.

‘She’s only worried about me because she feels it’s her duty to be. She doesn’t want me around. Not since she found out what I was.’

D’Artagnan watched as Gosse pushed the emotions aside.

‘Where are the others? Aramis and Porthos and Athos?’

‘They might not get here for a couple of days, I’m alone.’

Gosse looked away, ‘we may not have a couple of days.’

D’Artagnan looked around the cellar. The other men had stopped staring at him. Most had gone back to sitting in pairs or small groups. A couple were talking quietly. One of the older men was comforting a crying boy in the far cell, the quiet sobs echoing around the room. 

‘Do you know what he intends to do?’ asked d’Artagnan despite having a pretty good idea.

‘He’s selling us. A slave trader is coming. Droit’s only been the landowner for a few months. I think,’ said Gosse, ‘he moves around. He buys up land, takes a few of the local men, sells them and then moves on. One of the guards was bragging about how he’s now lived in four different chateaus with Droit.’

D’Artagnan stared at Gosse, ‘slaves?’ 

Although he had thought they were to be sold it was still a shock to hear it said out loud.

Gosse nodded, before continuing quietly so that the other men could not hear him, ‘have you noticed that some of the men are very handsome, and the boys...none of them are malnourished or deformed in any way...I think some of us will be sold as sex slaves.’

Gosse spoke quite matter of factly, he was almost resigned to his fate. The way the men had spoken to him and about him now made sense to d’Artagnan. 

‘How do you know him?’ asked one of the men from the cell opposite them. 

Gosse looked across to the man, he moved to the wall of his cell and spoke quietly. 

‘D’Artagnan is a Musketeer if anyone can help us, he can. And he has friends coming...don’t lose hope.’

D’Artagnan looked around at the now expectant faces of the other men. The boy that had been crying sniffed a few times and wiped his eyes.

‘Please don’t tell Droit and his guards that help is coming,’ said d'Artagnan, ‘we need the element of surprise.’

One of the other men, a handsome man a couple of years younger than d’Artagnan stood up, ‘I won’t believe there is hope until I am free from these bastards. If I get a chance to kill them I will.’

The man looked at d’Artagnan for a few seconds before turning and sitting down again, his back to them.

Gosse said quietly, ‘he’s been here for several weeks now, I think he was the first one taken.’

D’Artagnan nodded, he could understand the man’s frustrations. The man looked to be a prime candidate to become one of Droits sex slaves. D’Artagnan wondered if the man suspected that would be his fate. Despite Gosse speaking to him quietly about their future, d’Artagnan knew that some of the men would have worked it out for themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosse appears in ‘Infiltration’ and ‘Vengeance’. D’Artagnan was injured in ‘Getting Even’.


	5. Chapter 5

Monsieur Bonacieux was walking towards him, Athos sighed inwardly hoping the man would not stop to talk. Athos had just been relieved from his position in the throne room and wanted to get back to the garrison as quickly as he could. Aramis and Porthos were on patrol in one of the markets on the other side of the city. Athos hoped to be able to tell his brothers when they returned, that Treville had given them leave to join d’Artagnan.

The previous day had seemed interminable, watching the King fawn over the visiting dignitary hoping to reach a trade deal was not the Musketeers favourite activity. Treville had promised to make arrangements that day to allow the three of them to leave in the early evening. But events had conspired against them. The two men who were sick had not been well enough to return to work and Treville was reluctant to let the three of them leave whilst he still had limited manpower. 

Bonacieux made a polite bow when he was within a few yards of Athos who nodded back, hoping to carry on walking. 

‘D’Artagnan hasn’t been around for a few weeks,’ said Bonacieux, ‘I hope he is not injured or unwell.’

Bonacieux did not hide his contempt for the man who would steal his wife away in a heartbeat. The two men were civil to each other but no more. Poor Constance was trapped between them with seemingly no way out.

‘He was injured, quite badly a few weeks ago. But he’s back on duty now,’ replied Athos seeing no reason to lie to the man, ‘he’s visiting a village where there have been reports of disappearances.’

Bonacieux had the good grace to look suitably concerned when he heard that his wife’s former lover had been injured. At least, thought Athos with a hidden smile, Bonacieux thought they were not lovers anymore.

‘Disappearances,’ said the tailor, ‘where from?’

Athos told Bonacieux about the disappearances of the young men, being careful not to indicate that how d’Artagnan was involved in the life of one of them. When he described the location of the village Bonacieux furrowed his brow.

‘I used to have a customer there, the local landowner...what was his name?’ Bonacieux looked into the distance for a few seconds, ‘Droit...little squat man, I...found him not to my liking.’

Athos was intrigued, ‘why was that monsieur?’

‘I’m not one to gossip, but I got the distinct impression he was involved in the slave trade.’

Athos could not help a slight look of shock.

‘Not the slavers who deal with the Americas,’ continued Bonacieux, ‘the Barbary coast slavers.’

‘I know that does happen here, but not as much as some other countries,’ said Athos as he thought through what little they knew about Gosse’s disappearance.

Bonacieux shook his head, ‘I know, but it does still affect some coastal towns. I was at his house for a few hours some weeks ago. We were in his study when he was called away. He was gone for some time, I took to looking around the room and noticed some ledgers that were for…’ Bonacieux paused unable to hide his disgust, ‘the sale of people.’

Athos looked at the man who was not making eye contact any longer, he looked ashamed.

‘I should have, perhaps reported what I had seen, but my reputation might have been ruined if the allegation was unfounded...and I hate to say it but if he is involved with those sorts of people I feared reprisals.’

Athos could understand Bonacieux’s viewpoint. He was a simple tailor and would not be able to protect himself or his wife if they were to be threatened.

‘Thank you, monsieur,’ said Athos, ‘what you have just told me might prove most useful. If you will excuse me.’

‘Of course,’ said Bonacieux with a self-important smile.

Athos hurried from the Palace, what he had just learned changed everything. Not only was Gosse in danger, but d’Artagnan could be walking into the same trouble without knowing it. 

MMMM

‘When I was brought here,’ said Gosse quietly, ‘there were already several men here. I was the first one put in this cell. The boy over there,’ he indicated the youngest amongst them who did not leave the side of the young man next to him, ‘he came in a few hours later. He was so scared they had to drag him in, he was frozen with fear.’

D’Artagnan had watched the boy, he clung to the man next to him. He wondered if the older man, probably only a couple of years older, was using his new-found responsibility to take his mind of their potential fate. Having someone to look after gave the young man something to do. He was trying to keep positive for the boy’s sake. But the young man looked haunted nonetheless. 

All the men looked vacant most of the time. The ones that had been there the longest were the quietest, apart from the first man, the man who had vowed to kill the men who had taken them. He looked angry most of the time. 

They all looked around as the door was opened. Gosse rested his hand on d’Artagnan arm, stopping him from trying to stand.

‘They’re bringing food, they get angry if we approach the bars,’ whispered Gosse.

The other men and boys also remained still, away from the bars, watching the guards. D’Artagnan saw the two men who had brought him in and three others enter. Four of the men were carrying large trays with food and water. They lay the trays down by the doors to the cells and slid them underneath through a gap at the bottom. 

The trays contained several generous hunks of bread, which looked fresh. There was cheese and sliced meat. A large jug of water and a cup were also on each tray. 

Once the guards had stepped back one captive from each cell moved forward and tugged the tray towards the other men. D’Artagnan watched as the food was shared between the men. Gosse gestured to him to take his share. Once the food was divided they sat back against the walls. The guards had remained where they were. 

D’Artagnan glanced across to Gosse and subtly nodded towards the guards.

‘They stay to ensure we eat,’ he said in between bites of bread. 

D’Artagnan ate some of the cheese before taking the water jug and pouring some into the cup. He drank half before handing it to Gosse. 

‘One of the men refused to eat for a few days and was force-fed. It was horrible,’ Gosse told him quietly, ‘they pinned him down and pushed food into his mouth. He was choking and panicking. They twisted his arms behind him...it was horrible.’

Gosse paused to eat some of the meat when one of the guards stepped towards him.

‘He’s still got the bruises,’ Gosse nodded towards the man in question.

With dark bruising around his jaw and cheeks, the young man stood out beside the paleness of the men next to him. D’Artagnan noticed that one of the guards was watching the man very closely. The captive next to the assaulted man was encouraging him to eat despite the despondent look in the man’s eyes. The look was shared by several of the other men in the cellar.

D’Artagnan wondered how long he would have to be held captive before he took on the same despondent look. 

MMMM

Treville watched the faces of Aramis and Porthos as Athos related what he had learned from Bonacieux. Both men had gone from shocked to angry in a matter of seconds. Both men looked worried as well. Worried for young Gosse and worried for d’Artagnan who was on his own and probably unaware of what it was he was investigating. Treville wondered if Aramis was now regretting encouraging d’Artagnan to go alone. He had sent the young Musketeer into a very dangerous situation.

‘This is worrying gentlemen,’ said Treville when Athos had finished. ‘I think I can say with authority that we need to deal with this and deal with it quickly. The King will not begrudge me sending you three to assist d’Artagnan.’

Aramis shifted slightly, probably keen to leave immediately. Treville did not blame him.

‘You three will leave as soon as you see fit, now if you wish or at first light. I will leave that up to you,’ said the Musketeer Captain, ‘I will arrange for more men to visit the landowner, as soon as I can, but not more than two days. Use the time to liberate the men that Droit already has. If we can deal with Droit when he has no captives to ransom all the better.’

‘Can’t we just take him out?’ said Porthos with barely contained anger.

‘Droit’s estate is too close to Paris the King will not want an incident of this sort to be made public. If the men can be liberated before we arrest Droit I think it will be better for all concerned. If he is trading in people he will have guards, and I do not want to see innocent young lives lost in any skirmish or siege.’

Porthos nodded his understanding, but Treville could see the man was still angry.

‘If you can get the men out without Droit being aware that he has been found out all the better. But if it comes down to a decision, obviously you and the captives take priority. I would rather see Droit brought quietly to justice, but if he has to be dealt with by the sword so be it.’

It was Athos’ turn to nod, ‘we will leave within the hour if you are in agreement,’ he said looking to each of his brothers who both nodded their ascent.

MMMM

‘We will have to stop overnight, Aramis,’ said Athos as they continued to canter away from Paris. 

‘I know,’ responded Aramis, ‘I just wish we could have started out earlier.’

Aramis had known his brothers would want to leave Paris straight after the meeting with Treville. The closer they were to the village by nightfall the better. It would give them the rest of the next day to liaise with d’Artagnan and work out what they were going to do to rescue Gosse and probably other young men. After Athos had related what he had learned it had become clear what was happening in the village and its surrounding area. The sooner a stop could be put to the activity the better. Aramis did not like the thought of their young friend being in harm's way again. And he was not ashamed to admit to being concerned for his lover as well.

He knew d’Artagnan would not heed the advice to only observe and gather intelligence. His lover would want to help the kidnapped young men as soon as he could. That was what d’Artagnan was like, and although Aramis would not want to change his lover it did leave him worrying frequently when the younger man took it upon himself to deal with issues alone or with no plan. There was also the added worry that d’Artagnan was probably in the age range to be a target of the slavers. 

‘He’s going to be fine, he’ll be waiting for us with all the information we need,’ said Porthos with mock confidence, quickly followed by a grin when Aramis rolled his eyes. ‘Yeah, he’ll be getting into all sorts of trouble. Can’t leave ‘im for two seconds’ can we?’

Aramis appreciated the gentle teasing from his brother, knowing it was as much for Porthos’ own benefit as it was for him.

MMMM

They slept, huddled together on the floor of their cells. D’Artagnan and Gosse were sharing with two brothers who had been taken together. The young men, who were both strong looking labourers had been taken by surprise out in the fields around the farm that they worked on. Their captors had used the age-old method of playing one against the other. If either of them had fought back or tried to run the other would be shot or hurt in some other way. The two men were sleeping in the corner of the cell, two blankets pulled over them. The older brother had his arm around the younger one, a protective gesture reflected several times around the room. 

Some of the men had been held for several weeks. The man who had vowed to kill his captors and was the first to have been taken was sat in the furthest cell from the door. He was gazing off into the distance. If any of his fellow prisoners was going to be a liability it would be him. 

But d’Artagnan brought a ray of hope to most of the men. They talked quietly, across the large stone cellar. He told them to do as they were told when the other Musketeers came for them. He told them to keep their heads down, help the weaker captives. He told them they would know their rescuers by the uniform they wore, the distinctive pauldrons.

As he sat on the floor of the cellar with only a blanket and Gosse’s proximity for warmth d’Artagnan thought about his lover. Watching him unbuckle his pauldron and slip out of his doublet before pouring them both wine. D’Artagnan hoped he would be able to watch the sight again. Hoped he was not about to leave Aramis alone and guilty. Because he would feel guilty. His lover had encouraged him to start the mission on his own. Perhaps Aramis had hoped it would help to underline their understanding that Aramis finally accepted that d’Artagnan was his own man and perfectly capable of dealing with situations on his own. 

D’Artagnan knew it was just in his nature to be protective, Aramis was protective of them all. He was protective of everyone. And now the one time he had acted in the opposite manner d’Artagnan had managed to get himself into danger, possibly mortally so. His lover would never forgive himself. 

With a sigh, d’Artagnan tried to push the thoughts aside. He had to remain positive for himself and the other captives. He had to remain positive for his lover. He owed it to Aramis.

They could escape, help was on the way. D’Artagnan just had to believe what he had told the other men himself.


	6. Chapter 6

‘Madam Gosse?’ asked Athos looking down at the petite woman who had been feeding the brown goat next to her small house.

‘More of you,’ she said looking up at Athos.

‘Have you spoken to our friend, d’Artagnan? We are hoping to liaise with him.’

Madam Gosse looked at Athos for a few seconds before putting the bowl in her hands on the floor and wiping her hands on her apron. She turned fully to face the three of them. Porthos and Aramis were a few paces behind Athos not wishing to crowd the small woman. 

They had arrived at the village a few minutes before and after taking directions from an old man who appeared to know all the village gossip they had crossed to the house that Gosse shared with his mother. 

‘D’Artagnan was here. We spoke briefly and then he went to see Monsieur Droit.’

‘Droit?’

‘The landowner, he’s not been here long. He’s a brute, he’s the one who must have ordered my son to be taken from me...he’ll be lucky to get his rent now.’

Athos glanced back at Porthos and Aramis. Porthos found the woman to be quite abrupt, it was difficult to tell if she was upset or annoyed that her son had gone missing. Madam Gosse explained to them how she had seen Gosse being taken and that she recognised the men who had taken him. 

‘Remy was taken from me,’ she continued, ‘I know we’re not getting on, but he is my son after all. Despite what he is…’

Madam Gosse pulled a derisive face at her comment. Porthos slipped his hand around Aramis’ wrist when his friend moved slightly. He was worried the marksman would say something out of turn and upset the woman. Aramis had been quiet the previous evening and that morning. They were all worried about Gosse and increasingly about d’Artagnan but Aramis, Porthos knew, would probably have found some reason to make the whole situation his fault. 

‘Your friend, he went to have a look, I’ve not seen him since. He asked me to tell you he was going to observe Droits chateau. He said he wasn’t going to visit the man just watch.’

Aramis again shifted slightly, Porthos could feel the worry from his friend and felt the same... If d’Artagnan had not returned to speak to Madam Gosse again, where was he?

MMMM

After leaving Madam Gosse to feed her goat they had ridden closer to the chateau, leaving the horses out of sight they had found a natural rise in the grassland and stretched out, keeping low, to observe the house. 

‘It’s impressive,’ said Porthos as he handed his spyglass to Aramis.

‘I can’t see any patrolling guards,’ he said as he slowly swung the glass across the extensive grounds. 

Athos took the glass, ‘that does not mean they are not there.’

Aramis nodded, ‘it’s a big place, it’s going to be difficult to get in there. He’s bound to have a fair few staff as well.’

‘There’ll be servants’ entrances. I think we should wait until it’s dark…what?’

Porthos was looking across to Athos who had turned to sit facing in the other direction the spyglass still held up. He was staring intently at something. Both Aramis and Porthos turned to look in the same direction. 

‘Where are they off to then?’ asked Porthos.

‘I think they’re coming here,’ said Aramis.

The three Musketeers were watching two carts approach the chateau. They were strong looking carts with boxed in sides. Small barred windows surrounded the top of each cart side. The carts had strong wooden roofs across them, a large trunk was lashed to the top of each cart. 

The first cart was driven by a man in his thirties who wore good quality clothing, he looked as though he had access to money. The second cart was driven by a man of mixed race, who wore a tatty shirt and breeches. The man also had a manacle around his ankle securing him to the cart. It was clear to all three watching men that the second cart driver was a slave. The white man driving the first cart had authority or ownership of the second.

As the carts got closer the Musketeers pushed themselves back down so that they would not be seen. 

‘They’ll swing around following the road,’ observed Porthos, ‘but they’re going to the chateau. I think he must be the slave trader. I think Bonacieux was right.’

Athos glanced back at Aramis who knew what his brother was going to suggest. He had seen the resemblance, but he was not happy. 

‘You two are going to be infiltrating the chateau. You know that don’t you?’

Porthos nodded, ‘sorry, Aramis, but this is too good an opportunity to miss. I can be the slave, quite easily, I won’t get a second glance, and you look enough like the white man. The resemblance is clear.’

Aramis nodded slowly. Despite wanting to find d’Artagnan and Gosse, the thought of taking on the role of a man he suspected would be callous and cruel did not appeal to him. The chances of Droit having met the slaver before were slim, but he might have been given a description and Aramis had the unfortunate luck to look similar to the man driving the first cart. 

MMMM

Any of the men who were sleeping were startled awake by the sound of the door being kicked open. Gosse pushed himself up to sit straighter. During the course of the night, d’Artagnan had found the younger man’s hand on his shoulder. He knew it was nothing more than a gesture of reassurance, although he was not sure who was being reassured. 

The guards walked in carrying large buckets filled with water and rough looking blankets. D’Artagnan noticed that the captives were scrambling to their feet and watching the guards. 

‘They’ll open one cell at a time. We have to strip and then use the water, which is freezing, to wash,’ said Gosse quietly. ‘If we don’t...they will force us, strip us and pour the water over us. One of the boys was forced a couple of days ago. He screamed as they pulled his clothes off him. It was hours before the other men in his cell could calm him down and get him warm enough to stop shivering.’

D’Artagnan looked across to the cell that Gosse indicated, he saw the scared looking youth who was already visibly shaking.

‘Droit may want us to be healthy when we are sold, but I am not so sure the guards share his sentiment,’ remarked Gosse as they watched the men in the cell opposite them quickly stripping off as the door was opened. 

Michel, the guard who had shown a keen interest in him when Droit was making his notes, was not hiding his enjoyment of watching the young men and boys washing in front of him. 

After the men had washed, using the rough blankets to dry themselves they were returned to their cell and quickly redressed. 

Gosse nudged d’Artagnan and indicated that he should strip off. The guards opened their door and ordered them out. D’Artagnan made sure he was the closest to the guards. Even if he did nothing else whilst held captive he could see to it that the younger men were protected from the guards, especially Michel who very obviously looked d’Artagnan up and down again.

The water was, as Gosse had said, freezing. D’Artagnan was quick to wash, he realised all the men were, they had learned that the faster they performed the ablution the quicker they could redress and go back to the relative safety of their cells. Having them strip before they left the cells meant that they were exposed, and some were very self-conscious. The guards were less likely to have any problems with their captives if all the wanted to do was get back to their cells.

Droits men knew what they were doing. 

MMMM

They watched the carts following the road around. They crept closer to the road and readied themselves to stop the carts. 

‘They ain’t gonna like being stopped,’ remarked Porthos unnecessarily.

Athos stood and walked into the middle of the road, his gun held, primed and ready at his side. Aramis and Porthos stood a few feet behind him. Athos held up his hand in an obvious gesture to get the man to stop the cart. 

The cart slowed a little, they could see the man in the first cart reaching down for something. He straightened up, levelling a gun at Athos who was not entirely surprised by the move. The man was on business which was not going to be looked on favourably by three uniformed soldiers. Athos levelled his own gun and fired. He was in no mood to try to reason with the man. He knew he would have to neutralise the threat, his main concern was that the man’s clothing was not damaged. Athos had no thought for the wellbeing of the slaver. But they did need the man’s clothes if they were to pull off their plan. 

Porthos ran forward and grabbed the horses’ bridle and reins, bringing them to a halt. Aramis moved around to the second cart. He pointed his gun at the second man who looked scared, holding his hands out in submission.

‘It’s alright, we won’t hurt you,’ said Aramis calmly. ‘Just keep still, no sudden moves and you’ll be fine...was that your master?’ 

Aramis nodded towards the front cart and the body that Athos was pulling down. Athos looked towards the second man. The man still looked apprehensive. Perhaps he did not know that they were the King’s men, that he really was safe now?

He walked up to the man and Aramis, who was holstering his gun and looking at the manacle that was keeping the man chained to the cart. 

‘We are on the Kings business,’ Athos said. ‘If you help us, we will see to it that you are freed and allowed to go on your way.’

‘Please sir,’ said the man hesitantly, ‘I haven’t got anything, there’s nowhere I could go. Nothing I could do. Travert, he owned me, I worked for him.’

Athos looked back at the now dead slaver, Porthos was crouched by the man going through his pockets. The manacled man was probably right. If he was, as Athos suspected, a slave himself he would have few prospects after they freed him. Travert had obviously been keeping the man well fed, he was wearing reasonable, if tatty, clothes and did not appear to have too many injuries. There were bruises and scars on the man’s body but nothing life-changing.

Porthos walked up to them wielding the key to the manacle. The captive man stared at him, Porthos smiled as he freed the man.

‘We won’t simply abandon you,’ he said, ‘we’ll make sure you have somewhere to go and see that you get some money.’

‘What’s your name?’ asked Aramis as he reached out to help the man down from the cart. 

‘Noah,’ he said, ‘I don’t remember my real name. I was taken when I was very young. I don’t remember where I’m from or my family. I have nowhere to go back to.’

Porthos shook his head, ‘I’m sorry you’ve been mistreated for your entire life, that ain’t right.’

Athos watched as Aramis sat Noah down and started to look him over for any obvious injuries that needed tending to. Noah was looking at Aramis warily.

‘Noah,’ said Athos, ‘does Aramis look enough like your master to fool the man you are going to see?’

Aramis looked up at Athos before looking away. 

‘Yes, sir, he does. The man we were going to see has not met my master. He only has a description. He knows that Travert will arrive with two carts and that I will be driving the second cart, but he won’t have a description of me...other than the obvious.’

Noah glanced at Porthos who smiled wryly at him. 

‘I think you’ve worked out our plan, Noah,’ he said.

‘What was your job?’ asked Aramis, ‘Travert was taking white men to sell, what did he need you for?’

‘I speak several languages,’ replied Noah, ‘I translated for him. When he was transporting captives in countries where he did not speak the language well he wanted to know that the slaves were saying...and I would translate for him when he sold the men.’

‘I ain’t gonna be doing that,’ said Porthos.

‘I do not think you will need to communicate with Droit,’ said Athos, ‘I think we only need Travert to speak.’

Aramis looked up at them both and nodded reluctantly. 

MMMM

They had been sat in the cells for some hours. It was difficult to work out how much time had passed. There were no windows. The only light came from several torches which were replaced whenever the guards visited them. 

D’Artagnan had watched the guards carefully but could see no way to make an escape that did not endanger either himself or the other men. He decided his best course of action was to not draw too much attention to himself so that if he did get a chance he would be taking the guards by surprise.

Gosse had settled next to him again after insisting that one of the other men in their cell drink more water.

‘How is Simon?’ he asked. ‘I was getting replies to my letters, but they stopped a while ago.’

D’Artagnan took a deep breath. He knew he would have to tell the young man what had happened after he had left the care of Simon Berger.

‘I’m sorry, Remy,’ he said sadly, ‘but Simon was arrested not long after you left.’

‘Arrested?’

‘He was caught with another man...he was executed.’

Gosse looked away. D’Artagnan could tell he was trying to contain his emotions.

‘Simon was so kind to me, I...I’d hoped to go back and work for him...did he...did he name anyone? They must have interrogated him.’

D’Artagnan nodded before quietly relating all that had happened. By the time he had finished Gosse was not even bothering to try not to cry. The tears flowed freely from his eyes.

‘I’m sorry that happened to you. Poor Marc...and Aramis...that must have been horrible...is he....is he alright now?’

‘It affected him for a long time. What Marc did...to save him...it left Aramis with very mixed emotions, but he’s alright now...I mean, I don’t think he’ll ever be completely alright after that but he’s as alright as can be expected.’

Gosse nodded before wiping his eyes, ‘I suppose I should think myself lucky that my mother hasn’t turned me in. She barely talks to me. I think if she didn’t enjoy the extra money I’m bringing in she would throw me out. I told you I was saving up to return to Paris. If we get out of this, I’m going back.’

‘We will get out of this, somehow,’ said d’Artagnan hoping he sounded more optimistic than he felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Simon and Marc appeared in ‘Vengeance’ and ‘Broken’.


	7. Chapter 7

Athos held out the slavers doublet to him. Aramis took the jacket and shrugged into it. Even he had to admit they looked alike. The dead man had similar features to him and was of the same height and build, it would certainly be enough to fool a man who merely had a description of the person he was supposed to be meeting. 

The thought of what Travert did was abhorrent to Aramis. The man was going to buy young men to sell to other people. The Barbary pirates were proliferated in the coastal areas, France was lucky in that they were not being attacked as much, but Aramis had heard of coastal villages being completely emptied by the cutthroats. 

Travert had clearly seen an opportunity and found some like-minded men to work with. Aramis wondered how many more men like Travert there were out there, praying on the innocent people?

Noah, also a victim, but of a different slave trade, understood what was happening. He was an articulate man, Aramis hoped they could find him work in Paris when they had freed the men being held by Droit. 

The young men, which they were now sure included d’Artagnan, being held by Droit were likely to have been treated reasonably. If Droit wanted a good price for them he could not mistreat them. 

Aramis hoped d’Artagnan had not given his captors any excuse to cause him harm. Would a soldier make a suitable slave? Aramis prayed that d’Artagnan had submitted himself and not fought against the men who now had him. Aramis had encouraged the young man to go on his own. This was not what Aramis had envisioned when he saw his lover off.

MMMM

Athos could tell Aramis was worried, they all were. Athos wondered if Aramis was feeling guilty for suggesting that d’Artagnan was recovered enough to begin the investigations on his own?

‘He’s a sensible lad,’ said Athos quietly, ‘he will not do anything to put himself or the other men in danger.’

‘I hope so,’ replied Aramis as he buttoned the doublet.

Noah had given Porthos his own spare set of clothes. The shirt was a little tight on the bigger man, but Noah said that no one would notice. Porthos had been talking to the now liberated slave as they prepared. Athos had overhead the man explaining how he once tried to run and was whipped by Travert. It was the only time he had tried. Travert had kept him chained up since the incident. One of the few times the manacle was removed from his ankle was when he was allowed to bathe and needed to take his boots off. 

‘You need to keep your eyes averted, don’t look at anyone, not even Travert,’ said Noah looking back at Aramis.

Porthos nodded, ‘anything else, do I stay with the cart or will Travert take me with him into the chateau, to where the men are being held?’

‘It varies, it might depend on how many men the trader has.’

‘Since Droit has never met me, I think I can make up my own rule about where my man is when I am dealing with him,’ remarked Aramis.

Porthos smiled, ‘right by your side?’ he suggested.

Aramis nodded.

Noah stepped up to Aramis, he was about to reach up to touch the doublet he now wore but paused.

‘It’s alright,’ said Aramis, ‘I’m not him.’

Noah managed a smile. He reached out and straightened the collar.

‘He always wore the collar like that,’ he said, ‘although I don’t suppose it matters that much.’

Aramis nodded, ‘thank you anyway. Was Travert firm with the men that he bought? How should I behave? We want to get the men away without drawing suspicion from Droit or his men.’

Noah stood back, ‘he was firm, he would hit one or two of the slaves. Just enough to show them that he was in charge. He tried to avoid hitting the ones he’d set aside to be sex slaves if they were damaged they wouldn’t make as much money.’

Noah paused looking at the shocked faces around him. 

‘Sex slaves?’ said Aramis.

Noah nodded, ‘you’ll be expected to pick out a few of the men for that. They make more money. Pick the young ones, the boys always as they are more likely to be virgins and any very handsome ones. Droit will have interrogated each man to find out which have been with other men.’

‘And if they have?’ asked Athos, thinking of d’Artagnan and Gosse.

‘Unless they are exceptionally handsome, feminine almost, they won’t be picked out, they will just be used as labourers.’

‘And you are sure that Droit will not have met Travert before?’ asked Athos with a glance towards Aramis.

Noah followed Athos’ gaze and shook his head, ‘no, my master had several contacts that he would buy men from, but he has not met a man called Droit before.’

Noah turned his attention to Porthos. He looked at the Musketeer for a few seconds before walking to the front cart and pulling a stick from under the seat. He walked back and handed the stick to Aramis. 

‘He’s not a slave,’ said Noah pointing at the bruises on his own face and arms, ‘it won’t look convincing if he is not marked.’

Aramis did not bother to hide the shock at the suggestion. Athos was about to step forward but Porthos was already there.

‘I know you hate this. But we want this to be authentic,’ Porthos turned to Noah. ‘Where should he hit me?’

Noah looked at Porthos, ‘it needs to be visible.’

He reached up and pulled at the shirt slightly, pulling it away and down from Porthos shoulder. Noah looked across to Aramis who was holding the stick, looking down at it with disgust.

‘Across his shoulder and perhaps one or two on his legs, where the skin is bare above his boots?’

Aramis hesitated.

‘We’re doing this for d’Artagnan and Gosse,’ said Porthos taking a step forward, ‘remember that. I’m not going to hold it against you.’

Athos watched as Aramis slowly nodded. Porthos turned around and tensed up waiting for the blow across his shoulder.

It took Aramis a few seconds to steady himself. Athos was about to step in and offer to do it for him, but the marksman raised his hand, holding the stout stick high. He brought the stick down hard across Porthos’ shoulder. The Musketeer could not help taking a couple of staggered steps forward. He ended up leaning against the first cart, holding himself up with outstretched hands. Athos closed the gap between them, resting a hand on Porthos arm. Porthos nodded that he was alright, before turning back to Aramis who was staring at him.

‘And again,’ he said looking down at his legs.

Aramis moved to a better position before raising the stick again, he managed to bring it down across both of Porthos’ shins. Athos had to grab his friend as he cried out in pain, unable to help himself from collapsing to the ground.

‘Sorry,’ said Aramis, who had dropped the stick and grabbed Porthos from the other side, easing him to kneel on the floor. 

‘It’s alright,’ panted Porthos, ‘give me a minute, it’s fine.’

Noah had picked up the stick and was holding it out to Aramis, ‘if the slaves misbehave, you will need to hit them, show them that you are the boss.’

Aramis took the stick again as Porthos struggled to his feet.

‘Pity he’s dead,’ said Porthos staring at Travert’s body, ‘I think I would have liked to take that stick to him a few times.’

Aramis was looking at Porthos with concern.

‘I’ll be fine, you’ve only bruised me, and now I look the part.’

Aramis managed a nod.

MMMM

Porthos urged the horses on. He watched the first cart and kept pace with it. He moved his right leg slightly causing the chain attached to the manacle to clink a few times. He thought back to the moment a few minutes before when he had been insistent the restraint be used. He had pointed out to Aramis that they could not remove the manacle and chain from the cart as they were firmly attached, it would look odd if the chain was noticed and it was not attached to the slave driving the cart. Reluctantly Aramis had snapped the manacle around Porthos’ ankle and slipped the key into his pocket. 

Aramis, despite wanting to get d’Artagnan back and rescuing Gosse and the other men, was not happy with the plan. Porthos knew his friend would play his part and do what he had to, even if that meant striking some of the men they were rescuing. But he would hate every moment of it and feel guilt that was unnecessary. 

Porthos was not particularly keen on the plan either, but the opportunity was too great to miss. When the two carts had come into view and he had seen the two drivers he knew what they would have to do. Infiltrating the chateau would be risky if Droit knew details about Travert that Aramis could not bluff his way past their thin cover would be blown straight away. 

They were both armed, but until Porthos was released from his restraints they would be at a disadvantage. There were so many things that could go wrong. But Porthos had every faith in Aramis, even if the man was doubting himself.

MMMM

‘Your friends are very brave, going in there like that,’ said Noah as he and Athos watched the two carts rumble away towards the chateau.

‘It’s what we do,’ said Athos, ‘we know two of the men being held in there.’

Noah looked at Athos. His expression a little shocked.

‘D’Artagnan, another Musketeer and a friend, Gosse who once helped d’Artagnan and Porthos escape from some different men who had captured them.’

‘Then it is very noble of you to rescue your friend.’

Athos walked towards the rise that he and his brothers had been hiding behind before they saw the carts, Noah followed. As they walked Athos explained what had happened to result in d’Artagnan now being held by Droit. 

Noah settled on the grass, sat cross-legged looking towards the chateau. Athos stood for a moment before joining Noah on the grass. He knew they were likely to have a while to wait. If Aramis and Porthos were not found out to be imposters straight away they would have to go through with examining the potential slaves and buying them.

Before Aramis and Porthos had left, Noah had shown them a box full of coins and the ledger Aramis would need to fill in with the slaves’ details. Noah had told them that he sometimes filled the ledger in which would give Aramis the excuse he might need to have Porthos accompany him around the chateau.

The concept of buying another human being appalled Athos. Even the legal slave trade was abhorrent to him. People were not livestock to be used and abused as wealthy men saw fit. 

As he mused about the unfortunate lives of the slaves his attention was drawn towards the stand of trees to the right of him and Noah. He looked at Noah who was watching the trees intently.

‘There are two of them,’ Noah said very quietly, ‘both are armed.’

‘Keep low and out of the way,’ replied Athos, as he slowly pulled his gun from his belt and prepared to stand.

A gunshot saw Noah throw himself to the ground as flat as he could get. Athos scrambled up levelling his own gun at the same time. The two men charged forward. With only a few feet between them, it would have been difficult for Athos to miss the man he aimed at. 

His shot was not perfect, it caught the first man across the side of his chest, carving a furrow which caused the man to stumble to the ground clutching his side, dropping his spent gun in the process.

The second man, continued forward, his sword above his head. Athos was ready for the man, his own sword drawn and raised in a second. Standing his ground Athos waited for the man to reach him before engaging in a fierce, but brief, sword fight. 

The man, who wore plain breeches and an equally plain doublet and gloves was too hasty with his strikes and parries. His aim was poor. Athos was able to counter his obvious attacks with ease. Within a matter of seconds, he had plunged his sword deep into the man’s gut. The man’s sword arm became limp, the sword dropping to the ground as he collapsed forwards. Athos was forced to grab the man and push him to the side to prevent being pushed over himself. 

As he let the man go and straightened up he was aware of Noah shouting a warning. The man Athos had shot was struggling to his knees having reloaded his gun. With a wavering arm, he brought the weapon up to aim squarely at Athos who knew he would have no time to reach the man to knock the gun aside.


	8. Chapter 8

The man fired the gun. Despite his quivering hand he managed to hit his target, which, Athos had to admit, was impressive. He felt the ball crease across his right shoulder. A searing pain radiated out. 

The man snarled and started to reload the weapon again, panting as he did so. The blood from his wound staining the lighter doublet he wore a dark, life-ending hue. But the man probably still had time to reload and aim again.

Athos was not spending those few seconds idly. He looked down at the man he had just killed. He grabbed for the man’s gun, pulling it awkwardly from the weapons belt. Athos raised his left arm and fired. 

The man, who had been in the process of aiming his own gun again stared at Athos for a second before simply crumpling to the ground.

Athos lowered the borrowed weapon and blinked a few times. He flinched slightly when he felt a presence beside him. Noah stepped back.

‘Sorry,’ said Athos, ‘you...er...startled me.’

‘I would imagine you are not the sort of person who likes to be startled?’

Athos looked up at Noah and huffed out a laugh as he allowed the freed man to help him to his feet. Noah tentatively looked at Athos shoulder before speaking again.

‘If you would like I can deal with the wound? Travert had me learn how to deal with most injuries. Sometimes I had to patch up the men he wanted to sell.’

Athos nodded, ‘thank you. Aramis is usually our medic, but he is indisposed at the moment.’

MMMM

The angry young man, who d’Artagnan now knew was called Bellerose, pulled himself to his feet and took a couple of steps forward.

‘Your Musketeers aren’t coming,’ he said, ‘hear that? That’s the slaver coming to take us away.’

D’Artagnan shook his head, ‘you’re scaring them,’ he said.

‘They should be scared...particularly the boys and the handsome ones. I know what they’re going to do to us. You’ve all seen the way Michel looks at us...that’s what we have to look forward to...but more and worse and…’

‘Shut up,’ said Gosse who has joined d’Artagnan by the bars of their cell.

Bellerose glared at them for a few moments. Before looking towards the other door. The door that had not been opened since they had been incarcerated. The unmistakable sound of horses and carts being driven over gravel could be heard outside. 

D’Artagnan suspected that Bellerose was right. They had run out of time. If the slaver had arrived, there was nothing he could do on his own with only a collection of frightened young men and boys. Bellerose would try to fight, he was sure, but the slight young man would be no match for any of the guards. 

Not for the first time, d'Artagnan regretted his choice to allow himself to be captured. He had thought he would be able to do something from within. But he had failed, there was nothing he could do. The guards knew he was a soldier, and although he kept his head down and not done anything to draw their attention, he knew they would keep an eye on him nonetheless.

He wondered what his friends would think when they realised he was gone. Would Athos and Porthos try to find him? He knew Aramis would be devastated after he had encouraged him to leave to gather information. His lover would blame himself wholeheartedly.

D’Artagnan had let them all down. Not only the men trapped in the cellar with him but his brothers and his lover. 

He felt Gosse’s hand on his shoulder and realised he was looking down, defeated. He turned to face the younger man who was looking at him with sympathy. D’Artagnan still found the change in Gosse a surprise. The timid man they had rescued, the confused man who had kissed him was now showing more confidence than d’Artagnan thought possible.

‘I’m sorry,’ d’Artagnan said quietly, ‘I thought I could help. I thought by being on the inside I might be able to see a way out...I’ve failed you.’

Gosse shook his head, ‘no, d’Artagnan, you haven’t failed. Stay alert, there may still be chances. You know I will follow your lead. If we have to fight our way out I will do my best, I’m not trained but I have the same urge to survive.’

D’Artagnan found it odd that he was being given advice by a man who had once been scared of his own shadow. Perhaps his misguided early choices in life had helped to shape the man into who he had now become.

D’Artagnan nodded with a small smile, ‘you’re right, we must try.’

MMMM

Athos winced as Noah eased his arm from the sleeve of his bloody doublet. The former slave was gentle with his movements. The man had collected the medical bag from Aramis’ horse and set out what he would need. As Athos had watched, the practised movements reminded him of Aramis whenever he was preparing to deal with an injury. Noah appeared well versed in field medicine. He did no doubt that Noah would be able to deal with the slight injury.

Noah eased the stained shirt away from the wound, before gently wiping away the blood with a dampened cloth.

‘You must tell me if I hurt you,’ said Noah.

‘I doubt you will do anything that will be worse than I’ve experienced before,’ replied Athos.

Noah smiled, Athos wondered how much the man had smiled before he had been freed.

‘I suspect you have been badly injured before?’

‘Countless times,’ replied Athos, ‘all of us have. We’re soldiers, it happens.’

Noah cleaned the injury and dressed it without another word. Athos allowed the man to manipulate him as needed. 

‘What will you do?’ asked Athos as Noah helped him to pull his jacket back on.

‘Monsieur?’

‘Now that you are free. Have we...have we made your life worse by freeing you?’

Noah looked off into the distance for a few seconds before he started to tidy away the medical bag. Athos watched as he carefully put everything back where it had been. Aramis would be impressed with the man’s attention to detail.

‘I don’t know. I haven’t had time to think.’

Athos looked at the man for a few seconds, ‘come back to Paris with us when this is over. We will help you to find work and somewhere to live. I am sure our Captain will accommodate you to start with. 

Noah thought for a moment, Athos could almost see the man’s thoughts turning in his head. 

‘I would like that, monsieur. Thank you.’

MMMM

The impressive gates were opened for them as they drew near. Aramis nodded to the man on the gate. Porthos could not hear what was being said but could guess his friend was being given directions. The man on the gate did not make eye contact with him as he urged the two horses pulling his cart after the cart in front. 

The chateau was large, built from a mixture of pale and red brick. The building looked modern, newly built it would be solid with no doubt heavy doors with good quality locks. Porthos was glad they were walking in invited. At least he hoped they would be invited. There was a big chance they would be found out as imposters before Aramis had even been given the chance to act out his part in the charade. 

Aramis steered his cart around to the side of the chateau, Porthos followed taking in as much of their surroundings as he could. If something went wrong and they had to beat a quick retreat, knowing the lie of the land would be vital.

Three men were waiting at the rear of the chateau. A shorter man in a green doublet was flanked by two taller, armed men. The man in the green doublet was grinning at Aramis as he brought the first cart to a standstill. Porthos steered his to a stop next to the first. All he could do was wait to be released. 

‘Monsieur Travert. I am Droit. It’s a pleasure to meet you,’ said the man in the green doublet. 

‘Monsieur,’ said Aramis as he jumped down from the cart, ‘I would like to get on with the business at hand. I have a long journey back to the coast.’

‘Of course,’ replied Droit, who did not hide his annoyance at Aramis’ apparent rudeness.

‘I have a man waiting to make a purchase,’ continued Aramis, ‘the sooner I can be on my way the better.’

Droit narrowed his eyes, he glanced back at the two men with him. One, wearing a fancy red doublet already had his hand resting on his sword. Porthos could tell Droit was sceptical. Aramis needed to prove himself and quickly. 

Porthos shifted enough for the chain on his leg to make a noise. Aramis and Droit both looked towards him. Porthos made a point of looking down quickly as if he had been caught doing something he should not. They had decided, reluctantly on Aramis’ part, that if Droit was suspicious of Aramis’ intentions Porthos would have to step in. As he had looked down Porthos had seen the regret in Aramis’ eyes. 

‘Quiet,’ said Aramis, with venom, a vindictive tone to his voice that Porthos had never heard before.

Aramis closed the gap between the two of them rapidly, the stout stick was already in his hand. He did not hesitate, he struck Porthos with force across the arm. Porthos barely had time to react. The pain the strike caused made him yelp.

‘You insolent boy, I need to start beating you more often,’ Aramis was almost yelling. 

Porthos managed to glance across to the men watching them. Droit was smirking. The other men were watching with interest. Aramis had undone the manacle around Porthos’ ankle, he reached up and dragged him from the cart. Unable to prevent himself from falling Porthos landed on the ground hard. He was surprised when Aramis kicked him in the side. His brother had not kicked him hard, the force went mostly into the ground, but Droit would not have noticed. 

Aramis had crouched by his side, hooking his hand around his arm.

‘Sorry,’ he said quietly, ‘and thank you.’

Porthos managed a subtle nod as he was hauled up to stand. He knew Aramis would probably spend some time apologising for his actions when they were done, but he did not begrudge his friend. The act had to be maintained, they were both playing parts despite the distaste both men felt for the roles. 

MMMM

Droit had looked suitably impressed with Aramis’ display of power over his slave. Aramis, after ensuring Porthos was not badly hurt had given him a shove in the direction of the chateau. He had walked back to the cart he had been driving and grabbed the ledger and a pencil, he thrust the items towards Porthos who took them without looking up. 

‘Take the notes...and write legibly,’ said Aramis with scorn.

Porthos nodded as Aramis turned away. Droit was walking towards the chateau. A set of four steps led down to a stout door. One of Droit’s men was already unlocking the door and pushing it open. The man stood back, Aramis followed Droit into a well-lit cellar. The room was clean, well maintained. Aramis had to hide his shock as he looked about him. 

Four barred cells had been created in the cellar. Within the cells stood men. Young frightened looking man. There were about twenty men all dressed in simple breeches and shirts. The men were staring at him as he entered. Remaining in character Aramis strode to the centre of the room and slowly looked around himself. Taking in the young men and boys as he did so. 

He spotted d’Artagnan and Gosse in one of the cells. With barely a pause he nodded to d’Artagnan who managed to nod back. His lover looked unharmed. Hiding his relief Aramis continued to look over the men.

Droit had stepped forward and was watching him.

‘They are fine specimens, aren’t they?’ the man said with a smile. ‘If I did not think it would draw too much attention I would probably take another batch from this area.’

‘Yes, yes,’ said Aramis, ‘can we get on with it?’

Aramis was not sure what the procedure would be so was allowing Droit to take the lead. The short man nodded to the guards who stepped toward the cell opposite d’Artagnan and Gosse’s. Two of the guards raised their guns towards the men, whilst one of the others unlocked the barred door. The captives kept away from the door, the frightened looks on their faces telling Aramis that they knew what was happening. The men did not look as though they were going to fight back, they were cowed. Even the fit looking labourers were looking down, avoiding eye contacts. Aramis got the impression the men had been threatened and humiliated into submission. 

‘Out,’ said the guard holding the door open.

The five men within the cell stepped out and lined up as indicated by the guard.

‘Strip,’ ordered the same man.

Without hesitation, the men began to undress. Aramis hated seeing people treated in such a way. He wanted to take out the guards and free the men, but he knew that they could not. He and Porthos were not fully armed, they would not be able to take on the four guards and Droit. There was also the possibility of other men within the chateau or its grounds. Their plan of buying the men and leaving was their only viable option at that moment. And if that meant submitting them to the humiliation of being forced to strip and being examined by their buyer then so be it. 

The cell housing d’Artagnan, Gosse and two more men was unlocked next. Following the example of the men in the first cell, the four captive men lined up. They began to undress after the guard tilted his head slightly, they knew what was expected of them. Aramis noticed d’Artagnan wincing slightly as he pulled his shirt off, the injury to his shoulder was still causing him problems. His lover was compromised, again Aramis cursed himself for encouraging him to leave on his own. 

As the rest of the men were forced out of their cells and stripped Droit watched Aramis’ face. Aramis was careful to keep his expression neutral. Once the men were all naked and standing in line Aramis slowly walked up to the first man. Porthos followed the ledger open at a blank page, the pencil poised. 

Aramis sent up a silent prayer that their weak charade would hold out long enough for them to get the imprisoned men away and to safety.


	9. Chapter 9

Aramis looked the boy in front of him up and down. The frightened lad could only have been fifteen years old, he was trembling as he tried to remain standing straight. He was glancing at the guards frequently. Much as Aramis wanted to throw a blanket around the youngster and tell him he was safe he knew he had to keep to his character.

He looked at Porthos and nodded. Porthos made a note. 

Next a handsome blond-haired man, who stared at him with a look of anger. He was the only man, apart from d’Artagnan and Gosse, who was not looking at the ground. The man was breathing a little quickly. Aramis looked at Porthos and nodded again.

The two young men who followed were obviously farm labourers and probably brothers. Their looks similar enough. Aramis looked at Porthos and shook his head. Porthos made a note. 

Aramis had no idea if Porthos understood what Aramis was communicating to him. But he hoped it was obvious. They knew they were supposed to pick out the sex slaves before they left so that a price could be settled upon. The first two captives, a boy and a handsome man were obviously destined for a life of sexual servitude. Whereas the strong looking brothers were best suited for labouring. 

The process continued, Aramis said nothing, merely nodded or shook his head when he had looked each man over. He reached up and lifted the chins of a couple of the men for show, but otherwise did not touch them.

When he reached Gosse, he made eye contact briefly before pretending to look him over. He shook his head, Gosse had some scars on his arms and back, no doubt from his previous life. Despite otherwise being a handsome man, he was marred by the marks.

Aramis reached up to the wound on d’Artagnan’s shoulder, he pressed it lightly whilst looking his lover in the eye hoping he would understand. D’Artagnan did, he overreacted to the touch. He hissed with apparent pain and stepped back. One of the guards stepped forward and pushed d’Artagnan back in line.

‘Soldier...Musketeer,’ said Droit by way of an explanation. ‘He hasn’t caused us any problems, but I would understand if you did not want that one.’

D’Artagnan glared at Droit for a few seconds.

‘If you don’t want him I will have him shot,’ continued Droit. ‘He won't talk.’

One of the guards, the one wearing the red doublet stepped forward raising his gun, aiming it at d’Artagnan’s head.

‘No,’ said Aramis, hoping he had not reacted too quickly to the threat to his lover. 

D’Artagnan’s breathing had quickened, he was staring at Aramis, his eyes wide. His lover looked scared, unable to hide the fear. Aramis could not react. He had to remain in character.

Aramis reached up again and grabbed d’Artagnan’s wounded shoulder firmly, causing real pain to his lover. D’Artagnan could not help whimpering and stumbling back slightly. Gosse grabbed him quickly, pulling him back up to stand. Aramis looked him in the eyes again hoping that he was conveying his regret at the move. 

‘The injury will help to slow him down, he looks fit otherwise. He’ll make a fine labourer,’ Aramis threw the last comment to Porthos who nodded and made a note in the ledger.

The guard with the gun looked at Aramis for a second before glancing at Droit who must have given a signal as the gun was lowered and the man stepped back.

Aramis moved on to the last few potential slaves after a last look at d’Artagnan.

MMMM

When Aramis had grabbed him firmly on the shoulder, putting pressure directly on his wound d’Artagnan’s vision had swum. He understood what Aramis was doing, making the point that even though he was a soldier he would not be a problem for the slave trader. Aramis was hurting him in order to save his life. 

Gosse was still keeping hold of him as he settled his breathing. They watched as Aramis and Porthos, who appeared to have been beaten recently, continued their way around the room. As they moved on the guard indicated that they should redress. D’Artagnan allowed Gosse to help him when he found his arm and shoulder were hurting too much for him to coordinate his actions. D’Artagnan wondered if Aramis realised how hard he had squeezed his shoulder?

When Aramis had walked into the room dressed in the fine clothes of a stranger with a submissive looking Porthos in tow d’Artagnan had almost audibly sighed with relief. But he quickly realised by Aramis’ demeanour that they were both playing a role in a charade. He realised, sadly, that Porthos had probably allowed himself to be injured so that he could look the part.

Once Aramis had finished his inspection he returned to the centre of the room with Droit, he looked around at the captives again.

‘I will take them all,’ he said.

‘Which ones have you selected to be personal slaves?’

‘Eight in total,’ said Aramis before he began to point to each of the five boys and the three most handsome, feminine looking men.

‘I would have liked to pick your soldier as well, but that injury counts him out and the one next to him, too scarred...you could have done better,’ said Aramis glancing across to d’Artagnan.

D’Artagnan glared at Aramis, trying to think of ways to make his lover pay for the remark, he hoped he would be able to make his lover pay for the remark, he guessed that was what Aramis wanted as well. 

Bellerose was still staring at all the men who were holding him captive. D’Artagnan wished he could convey to the other men that Aramis and Porthos were Musketeers. Aramis, who d’Artagnan knew was a good actor, would most likely have fooled all the men. If they were not left alone again he would not be able to tell the men that they were safe with Aramis. D’Artagnan did not like prolonging their worry and uncertainty. 

The armed guards had moved to the rear of the cellar. Michel grabbed the boy closest to the door and manoeuvred him to stand in front of it. Bellerose was pushed up behind the boy with the other six destined to be sex slaves forced to stand in line behind them. The rest of the men slowly moved to stand in line. The guns occasionally being pressed into the back or the side of any of the men who were not moving fast enough to please the guards. 

Aramis nodded towards Porthos who walked from the room followed by two of the guards. D’Artagnan watched as the boy at the front of the line of captives was pushed out of the cellar and up the steps. The rest of them followed slowly, every few seconds they paused before continuing. As they neared the door d’Artagnan could see what the cause of the momentary pauses was. Each man and boy was being shackled as they reached the top of the steps. Michel and Porthos were snapping manacles around the wrists of each man before they were pushed a few feet away from the chateau towards two sturdy carts. 

D’Artagnan watched as Porthos closed the manacles around the wrists of the men whilst Michel held their arms out. A couple of the men had resisted slightly, they were slapped around the head by Michel. Neither Gosse or d’Artagnan resisted when it came to their turn to be restrained. 

The men, who were all being carefully watched by more guards that d'Artagnan had not seen before, were shepherded towards the carts. Aramis was indicating for the men that he had chosen as personal slaves were to be put in one cart together whilst the rest of the men were being pushed towards the second cart. 

As Aramis was pulling Bellerose towards the cart the young man tried to pull free from his captor. He started to run from the group, but Aramis grabbed him again. A brief struggle ensued only ending when Aramis pulled a stout stick from his belt and hit the man. D’Artagnan was shocked at the violence that his lover showed towards the stranger. He knew it was part of his character, but he struggled not to react. Bellerose stumbled to the floor. Aramis hauled him up and pushed him towards the cart. 

A couple of the guards lowered their guns. It was obvious to the watching men that if Bellerose had managed to get any further from Aramis he would have been shot. Droit did not want any of the men escaping.

‘You’re lucky you’re pretty,’ said Aramis through clenched teeth, as he pushed the man roughly into the cart before slamming the door shut and closing a couple of bolts across. 

D’Artagnan was sure that Aramis paused a moment before turning back to the rest of the men, he would have needed a moment to compose himself after inflicting injuries on an innocent man. He knew that Aramis would have hated hitting the man even though he had probably just saved his life. 

With luck, thought d’Artagnan, they would all be free in a matter of minutes. 

MMMM

Hitting the innocent young man was one of the hardest things Aramis had ever done. He remembered how bad he had felt about striking d’Artagnan once when they were undercover. But then he had been able to apologise within a few minutes and check that he was alright. The young man who had glowered at him as he had forced him into the cart would not know that Aramis had probably just saved his life for some time. 

As he had slid the bolts shut and double checked the door was secure he was aware of the rest of the captured men watching him. He turned to look at them affecting as much menace as he could in his stare. He had to continue to show Droit and his men that he was a slave trader, that he was used to dealing with captive men, that he would be brutal towards them if necessary. But Aramis hated it. 

He saw d’Artagnan looking on, his lover looked shocked even though he knew why Aramis had done what he had. Droit, however, was watching with an approving smile. The short evil man clearly thought that the treatment Aramis had just meted out towards another human being was acceptable. 

Wanting to get the whole sorry business over as quickly as possible and get away from the vile man Aramis crossed to the other cart and opened the door. He looked at the rest of the slaves. A couple slowly moved forward before the guards started to shove the rest with their guns. D’Artagnan was the only man to make eye contact, Aramis could not read his expression. Porthos was stood by the door at the back of the cart and helping the men up. Once they were all in he closed and bolted the door before standing patiently, waiting to be told what to do. 

All Aramis wanted to do was get away from the character he was portraying, the injustice of the role. He wanted to burn his clothes and destroy the carts. Remove any sign that the hateful Travert had ever existed. He also wanted to be there when the rest of the men took Droit down. 

MMMM

Athos allowed Noah to help him up. They had settled on the grass leaning against the trunk of a large tree a few yards from the road. They could see along the road in both directions and could easily disappear into the tangle of trees making up the spinney behind them if anyone came past. 

The two carts were rumbling towards them. Aramis was again driving the first one, Porthos on the one behind. Athos could see fresh injuries to Porthos, he wondered what had happened. Aramis appeared unharmed, Athos knew the marksman had not been happy about the part he had to play but it appeared to have worked.

As they stopped the carts beside the waiting men Aramis sighed before turning to Athos.

‘We got them all,’ he said, ‘it was not...pleasant.’

‘I doubted it would be,’ remarked Athos as he took the key that Aramis handed him.

He walked back to Porthos who was waiting to be released, the manacle having been put around his ankle again.

‘Droit, the owner of the chateau,’ said Porthos as he took the key and undid his restraint, ‘is a man without morals...I don’t think he thought of these poor souls as anything more than goods to be sold. Livestock. He treated them like livestock.’

Aramis had joined them, carrying another two sets of keys. He handed one set to Porthos who walked to the back of the cart. Athos watched as Porthos pulled the bolts back on the door and swung it open. D’Artagnan was the first of the captives to appear in the door frame.

‘Were you hurt?’ asked Athos.

‘No,’ he replied as he immediately started to help Gosse and the rest of the captives down.

The men were eyeing Aramis warily and moved away from him quickly.

‘I told you, he’s with me...he’s a Musketeer,’ said d’Artagnan to the men who did not look convinced. 

Athos saw how ashamed Aramis looked and wondered what had gone on within the chateau and its grounds.

Porthos approached them with the keys to the manacles and began to release them. Athos looked them over, despite their ordeal the men did not look in bad shape. They had obviously been looked after whilst they were being held. Aramis backed away from the concerned men. Athos guessed he did not want to cause them further worry. 

‘He had to get hands-on with one of them,’ said Porthos quietly, ‘the lad tried to run, but Aramis had to hit him to get him to comply. They all saw him do it.’

‘And he had to hurt me,’ added d’Artagnan, ‘and I’m guessing you were on the receiving end of that stick as well?’

D’Artagnan nodded towards the bruises on Porthos’ arm. Porthos nodded sadly glancing back and seeing that Aramis had moved out of sight of the recently freed men. 

‘But it worked, you are all safe now,’ concluded Athos.

‘Thank you,’ said Gosse, ‘you’ve all saved a lot of lives today. I can’t thank you enough.’

D’Artagnan smiled, ‘it’s what they do,’ he said.

‘It’s what we do,’ corrected Porthos as he undid d’Artagnan’s manacles. 

A yell and a shout from the first cart drew their attention. Stepping around the second cart they were all shocked at the sight that greeted them.

MMMM

Aramis moved out of sight of the frightened men. He was clearly a source of distress for them. Hoping to make amends with the young man he had been forced to strike he walked back to the cart he had been driving. He drew back the bolts on the door, he was about to speak to the men, to reassure them that it was safe when the door was pushed open with force. The sudden movement caused Aramis to stumble a couple of steps. He did not have time to recover his wits before he found himself roughly grabbed and forced to the ground. His face was pushed down hard, he could feel the rough stones digging into the skin of his cheek. 

Someone was kneeling across his legs whilst more pressure was being put on his back. With horror, he realised there was a chain around his neck. One of the young men from the cart, he knew it had to be the one he had hit, had wrapped the chain from the manacles around Aramis’ neck and was now straddling him, sitting across his back, pinning him down. The air had been knocked out of him when he landed and now he could barely take a breath due to the weight on his back and the chain around his neck. 

With greying vision, he searched for his brothers, but could not see them from his position. He could not call out for help, and he could not reason with the men. The men who were just trying to save their own lives. Aramis realised he had been stupid to think he could talk with the men, particularly after he had beaten one of them.

He felt the stout stick being pulled from his belt, one of the men pulled his left arm out straight and pressed a foot onto his wrist keeping his arm still. He saw the stick being swung up into the air. He screwed his eyes shut, knowing what was going to come next.


	10. Chapter 10

Porthos stepped forward a few paces as he tried to work out what had happened. Aramis was lying face down on the ground with the young man he had been forced to discipline sat across his back. The chain linking the man’s manacles was looped around Aramis’ neck and being held tightly, choking the prone man who was struggling weakly against the men pinning him down.

Three of the other men from the first cart were helping to keep Aramis where he was, one was kneeling across his legs whilst one was holding his right arm still. The third man was busy tugging the stick from Aramis’ belt. It was obvious what the men intended to do.   
Misunderstanding the situation, the men had grabbed Aramis, still thinking he was the slaver, and now intended to exact their revenge on him.

The man with the stick used his foot to pin Aramis’ left arm down, he bent forward slightly and prepared to bring the stick down on the helpless man’s arm. The blow would likely break Aramis’ arm. 

‘NO!’ yelled Porthos gaining their attention. 

The men looked up at him. The man with the stick stopped mid-swing, staring.

‘We’re doing you a favour,’ said the blond man, tightening the chain slightly.

Porthos could see Aramis taking short, panted breaths. The man could do nothing to help himself. His weak struggles were ineffective.

‘No,’ said Porthos again, holding his arms out to show that he was not a threat, ‘he’s a Musketeer...we were rescuing you.’

‘Bellerose,’ said d’Artagnan, who had moved up next to Porthos. ‘He’s telling the truth. Let him go.’

Bellerose looked at them both, he thought for a moment before tightening the chain around Aramis’ neck again.

‘Why’d he hit me then?’

‘Please, let him go and we can explain,’ begged d’Artagnan taking another couple of steps forward.

Porthos realised Aramis had stopped struggling, he prayed they were not too late.

‘He. Hit. Me.’

D’Artagnan took another few steps forward. The man with the stick stepped back a few paces, lowering the weapon. The other two men moved away as well. Bellerose glanced at them before refocusing on the men approaching him. Athos was a few yards away, his gun raised and aimed at the man who was attacking Aramis. Porthos glanced at Athos and shook his head slightly. Athos understood and backed off slightly but did not lower the gun. Porthos knew that if it came to a choice Athos would save Aramis. 

‘He had to hit you, if he had let you run off, they would have shot you,’ said d’Artagnan calmly, glancing down at Aramis as he spoke. ‘He saved your life.’

Bellerose looked unsure, now that the other captive men had backed away from him the anger in his eyes had been replaced by fear. 

‘Let him go,’ said Porthos quietly.

The young man loosened the chain, pulling it away from Aramis and standing up. He took a few shaky steps away. The man who had been holding the stick took his arm and led him to the side of the road. The other men gathered around him, they watched silently as d’Artagnan and Porthos approached Aramis.

Porthos helped d’Artagnan to turn Aramis onto his back. His brother was panting and looked very dazed. Carefully they eased him up to sit, Porthos kept his arm around Aramis’ shoulders to ensure he remained sitting. D’Artagnan was sat in front of them both trying to get Aramis’ attention.

Aramis reached up a shaking hand to rest on d’Artagnan’s shoulder he nodded his head before saying quietly, ‘I’ll be...fine...give me...a minute.’

‘Shhh…’ said d’Artagnan with relief, ‘save your voice.’

Aramis managed another nod, before looking away.

Porthos watched the relief spread across d’Artagnan’s face, knowing he must have looked the same. Athos and Gosse both sighed.

MMMM

Bellerose was staring at the bruising around Aramis’ neck. Aramis reached out and lifted the man’s chin. 

‘You were defending yourself,’ said Aramis unable to hide the hoarseness of his voice. 

‘I’m sorry,’ Bellerose said quietly.

Aramis smiled at him as he continued to apply the salve to the rapidly darkening bruising on the young man’s arm. They were sat a few yards away from the carts which had been pulled off the road. 

It had taken him a few minutes to fully compose himself. The near strangulation had left him feeling weak and uncoordinated. Gosse had appeared in front of him with a waterskin which he had not been able to hold himself, his hands had been shaking too much. Porthos had remained knelt beside him, his arm around his shoulders. Aramis was glad, he did not think he would have been able to remain sitting without the support from his brother. 

D’Artagnan had, after ensuring that he was alright, walked across to Bellerose and spent a few minutes talking to him. The young man had been unable to hide his shock. Aramis suspected the fear and worry of the last few weeks had finally overwhelmed him now that he knew he was free. The other former captives had sat Bellerose down. One of the boys had put his arms around the older man and simply held onto him for a few minutes. The display of affection between the men had been touching. 

The horses had been unharnessed and taken to a nearby river that some of the previous captives knew of. Porthos and Noah had led the horse away a few minutes before. D’Artagnan, Gosse and Athos were looking through the trunks which had been lashed to the top of the carts. D’Artagnan was glancing across at him frequently. 

Most of the men who had been rescued had spent a few minutes composing themselves and thanking the Musketeers before making their way back towards their homes. A couple of the young men who were from the same village as Bellerose had said they would wait for him. They had gone with Porthos and Noah to water the horse.

Aramis spent a few minutes treating Bellerose before he was satisfied that he had done all that he could for the young man. 

‘I thought you were one of them,’ said Bellerose as he watched Aramis begin to put away his medical bag.

Bellerose reached out his hand and stopped Aramis who looked up at him confused. The young man reached for a clean cloth and the waterskin. He wet the cloth before reaching towards Aramis. Aramis realised what the man wanted to do and sat up straighter raising his head slightly. Bellerose gently began to clean the scratches and grazes around Aramis’ neck caused by the chain. Aramis did not say anything, he suspected the young man felt obliged to help him.

‘When I was younger, about nine I think, my uncle came to stay with us for a bit,’ said Bellerose.

Aramis allowed the man to turn his head so that he could continue to clean the slight injuries on his neck.

‘He was friendly to start with, he let me go with him to visit people. He had business with various men in the area. He let me drive his small cart...I felt very important when he left me in charge of the horse whilst he went to talk to the men…’

Bellerose trailed off for a few seconds. Aramis watched him blink back a few tears. He had worked out what the young man was going to say but knew he had to allow him to tell his story. 

‘Then he changed. He took me to a quiet wood...there was no one else there...he...he…’

Bellerose sniffed and looked away.

‘It wasn’t just the once. He did it again and again. He told me not to say anything. Said my parents would get in trouble if I said anything,’ Bellerose looked back at Aramis the earlier anger had returned to his eyes, ‘I believed him...I let him carry on. He stayed for three years.’

‘Have you talked about it before?’ asked Aramis.

Bellerose looked a little confused.

‘It helps to talk...it helped me,’ Aramis continued, ‘I was attacked...not when I was young, like you...I was assaulted a few years ago...I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you...as a child...but talking helped me.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Bellerose, ‘I’ve never spoken about it before. There is no one I can talk to.’

Aramis understood what the young man meant. Even if, as a child, he had managed to speak out there was a fair chance he would not be believed. The Uncle could have turned more violent toward Bellerose. And the threat to the boys' parents would have helped to keep him quiet.

Bellerose lifted Aramis’ arm, pushing back the sleeve revealing the bruises inflicted when the other captive had tried to break his arm.

Aramis handed Bellerose the salve. The young man reciprocated the favour, using the ointment on Aramis’ arm and neck.

‘Will you be alright?’ asked the young man when he had finished.

‘I've had a lot worse, believe me,’ replied Aramis. 

Bellerose managed a smile.

‘What about you? You were one of the first to be taken...did they hurt you?’

Bellerose shook his head, ‘I think he was more interested in getting a good price for us, a couple of the others were knocked about a bit but I wasn’t touched.’

Aramis sighed, ‘it’s just awful that it happened to any of you. I hate to think how long Travert has been working. Noah, the man who was really his slave has been with the man for many years. And Droit has clearly been at it for a while.’

‘What will happen to him?’ asked Bellerose looking towards the chateau.

‘There are more soldiers on the way, we were sent ahead to get you out first so that the chateau could be taken without innocent people being in the crossfire.’

‘I wish I could kill him,’ said Bellerose.

‘I know,’ replied Aramis, ‘he is a bad man and deserves what he is going to get.’

MMMM

Aramis watched as the last of the captured men walked away, Bellerose and the other two men glanced back once before disappearing around the bend in the road and out of sight. 

‘We need to get to the rendezvous site and meet with Treville,’ said Athos from behind him.

Aramis turned to Athos, ‘yes, I’m looking forward to having a chance to meet with Droit again,’ he said grimly.

Athos nodded before moving off to help Porthos with the horses. Aramis watched as the carts were moved further into the trees so that they would be out of sight, they did not want any of Droit’s men to see the abandoned carts. Noah and Gosse were leading the horses back towards the road.

‘Are you alright?’ asked d’Artagnan. 

Aramis had not noticed his lover approaching him.

‘I should be asking you that,’ he replied, ‘I didn’t want to hurt you back then, but when he suggested that they shoot you I needed to prove to Droit that I had no problem with you.’

D’Artagnan tilted his head slightly, ‘there was a moment, a very brief moment when I was a bit confused with what you were doing, and it really did hurt...still does actually,’ said d’Artagnan flexing his arm a little, ‘but I know it was a charade. Don’t start getting all guilty about it.’

Aramis smiled, ‘I won’t, I just wish we could have come up with another plan.’

D’Artagnan reached up to Aramis’ neck about to touch the bruises but Aramis stopped him, taking his hand and holding it to his chest for a few seconds. He glanced back to the others, each man was busy with his own task. 

They rarely displayed affection in public, it was just too dangerous, and not often in front of their brothers, but Aramis decided the risk was worth it. He leaned forward, cupping his hand behind d’Artagnan’s head and pulled him in for a brief kiss. They stayed close, their foreheads pressed together.

‘I thought I might lose you there,’ said Aramis, ‘I actually wished I’d been protective and not let you go...even it if was my idea.’

D’Artagnan replied, ‘I have to admit, I regretted my decision to allow myself to be caught by them pretty quickly.’

They pushed apart and smiled at each other.

‘What was Bellerose talking about?’ asked d’Artagnan as they slowly walked towards the horses watching the others checking the tack.

‘Poor lad was molested as a child, that’s why he was so angry and wanted to kill me...or rather Travert.’

Porthos looked up as they approached having heard the end of their conversation.

‘He nearly did kill you,’ Porthos remarked, ‘Athos was pretty close to shooting him.’

D’Artagnan sighed, ‘I hope he can put this behind him and get back to normality,’ he turned to Gosse who had mounted one of the horses that had been pulling the carts. ‘Have you decided what to do?’

Gosse looked down at him, ‘I’m not going back to her. I’ll visit her and collect my belongings, but it’s not the same. If it’s alright with you, after you’ve dealt with Droit I’d like to go back to Paris as well?’

Athos nodded, ‘I would hope it would only take us a few hours to deal with Droit, you know where the rendezvous is? Meet us there at dawn tomorrow.’

Gosse nodded with a smile before urging his horse forward. They watched him disappear through the trees towards his village. 

‘Now,’ said Athos with a look at each of them, ‘we still have work to do.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aramis was first raped in the first story of the series; ‘Earning Their Keep.’ I have been horrible to him and had him sexually assault another couple of times since then.


	11. Chapter 11

As they approached the rendezvous the Musketeers saw Treville watching them. He showed his concern in his expression.

‘I think you have had an interesting time,’ he said. 

D’Artagnan nodded, ‘Droit did have a group of captive men, destined to be sold as slaves. Now he does not, but he is unaware that he has been found out.’

Treville smiled, ‘good. Get yourselves sorted out and then I will have a full update. Aramis, Porthos, do either of you need medical attention?’

Treville looked the two men up and down as they both shook their heads.

‘It’s nothin’ we can’t handle, Captain,’ replied Porthos with a determined smile.

Treville held his gaze for a few seconds. D’Artagnan could tell their captain was keen to know all that had gone on.

After greeting a few of the other Musketeers and leaving Noah in the hands of a couple of the cadets they gathered in front of Treville.

D’Artagnan began by updating Treville with what he had done. Treville complimented him on his actions despite it not being the best move in the end. They had all agreed it was a good idea to allow himself to be captured. It was just unfortunate that he was unable to do much to help the men when he was taken prisoner with them. 

Athos described how they had killed Travert and explained how Aramis and Porthos had taken on the roles of Travert and Noah. D’Artagnan noticed that Aramis looked away when Porthos explained how he had received his injuries, all at Aramis’ hand. 

Porthos continued the briefing with details of Droit’s chateau and the guards. He described how they had bought the men from Droit using all the available money. Porthos paused and glanced at Aramis before telling Treville about Bellerose and the attack on Aramis explaining the bruising to the marksman’s neck.

When they had finished bringing the Captain up to date he turned to Aramis.

‘That must have been difficult for you,’ he said. 

Aramis nodded, ‘I know it was all part of the plan and that Porthos at least was expecting me to hit him, but it doesn’t make it an easy thing to have done.’

Treville smiled sadly, ‘such is the life of a soldier.’

Aramis nodded his agreement. 

‘Now, I propose that you all get a few hours rest, particularly you d’Artagnan, and we will make our assault en masse at dusk.’

Athos said, ‘I’m not sure if d’Artagnan, or Aramis, should join us.’

Both men looked at Athos with annoyance.

‘You are both injured. D’Artagnan, you said yourself just now that your shoulder is still causing you problems and Aramis if your head does not ache after your near strangulation I would be very surprised.’

Treville turned back to the two men. D’Artagnan was about to protest but Aramis stepped in first. 

‘I am sure my head will have stopped hurting after a few hours rest, it’s really not too bad...and,’ he continued with a glance towards d’Artagnan, ‘if we, perhaps, keep to the back and look out for Droit rather than attempt to get into the thick of the fighting we won’t be such a liability?’

D’Artagnan smiled at Aramis’ suggestion. Treville looked towards Athos who nodded with a small smile of his own.

‘I agree with your terms Aramis, however, might I suggest that if needs be you both retreat, you are both injured and there would be no shame in retreating. I think we would all rather have you as you are and not further injured.’

‘If we have to, but I’m still keen to meet Droit again,’ remarked d’Artagnan with determination.

MMMM

Despite thinking the King would want Droit arrested Treville told them otherwise. He said that the King had intimated that should Droit not survive an arrest attempt it would be no bad thing. The less that became public knowledge about the whole sordid affair the better. It could prove embarrassing to the Royal household to learn that a man was partaking in the white slave trade within a few hours ride of Paris. 

D’Artagnan had been pleased with this piece of news. He had taken the ordered rest and found that he slept soundly for a few hours before being shaken awake by Aramis as the other men were preparing to leave. 

Treville had allowed d’Artagnan to sleep through his briefing to the rest of the men, leaving Aramis to update him as they made their way on foot towards the chateau. 

‘The men are going to enter simultaneously from the front and back of the property,’ Aramis said as they walked, ‘we are to enter from the back and search for Droit. They,’ Aramis nodded towards Treville and Athos who were at the head of the men, ‘have made it quite clear that we are not to get involved in the fighting.’

D’Artagnan nodded, ‘to be honest I think they’re right. I could fight if I needed to, but I’m not sure if I could manage a sustained assault.’

Aramis looked at him with concern.

‘Stop it,’ admonished d’Artagnan, ‘don’t even suggest I stay behind. If you do I’ll tell them that your hiding how much your injury is affecting you.’

Aramis looked shocked, ‘you would lie...to get back at me...for protecting you?’

D’Artagnan grinned as he nodded. 

Aramis shook his head in exasperation, ‘fine, but if you get hurt don’t blame me.’

‘And don’t blame yourself either…’

Aramis shook his head again, ‘I don’t think I will this time,’ he replied with mock scorn. 

They lapsed into silence as they approached the chateau. Light shone from the windows of the large building. They could make out figures moving from within. A couple of men were walking around the outside of the building. Two Musketeers were ordered forward with a nod from Athos. 

The men moved silently, creeping up behind the two sentries who were oblivious to their approach. The men were dead before they even knew they had been attacked. The two soldiers dragged the bodies into some undergrowth before indicating that it was safe for the rest of the Musketeers to move forward. 

Athos and Porthos, with several other men following them, made their way towards the front of the house. Treville led the rest around to the back. D’Artagnan and Aramis followed, keeping themselves at the back of the group, frequently checking the surrounding area for any unexplained movement. 

The group split again as they approached the rear of the building. There appeared to be two reception rooms with doors that opened onto the expansive rear garden. D’Artagnan and Aramis waited at the back of one of the groups. They had already decided that unless they had to act defensively they would not engage in any of the fighting. They would merely search for Droit. Catching the man was their main goal after all. 

The men paused, waiting for a signal which came in the form of a crash from the front of the house, indicating that Athos and Porthos had begun their part of the assault, the men at the back began to smash their way into the building. The glass doors proved inefficient at stopping them from entering. 

All the Musketeers were inside the chateau within a few seconds. D’Artagnan and Aramis began their search for Droit. D’Artagnan was keen to exact revenge on behalf of all the young men he had taken prisoner, not only the ones they had liberated that day but all the poor souls that had gone before them.

MMMM

Athos waited at the door for Porthos and a few of the other men to position themselves under a window ready to break through and scramble in at the same time that the front door was breached. Porthos nodded that they were ready, Athos, who had already ensured the door was unlocked pushed it open firmly. He and several other Musketeers flooded into the hallway.

Men spread out quickly, forcing their way into the rooms off the hallway, surprising the servants and guards who were within. It pleased Athos that the men within the chateau had been taken by surprise. None of the servants put up any resistance. They either ran or cowered in corners or behind furniture. Treville had told the men that the servants were to be left alone and only attacked if they attacked the Musketeers first. 

One of the guards, a man with a pockmarked face engaged Athos in a sword fight. The swordsman had fired his gun as he entered the building and had not had a chance to reload it. Unperturbed, he fought back against the man who Athos suspected had some training. The man had probably been a soldier for a few years and left to become a sword for hire, knowing he would make more money partaking in nefarious activities rather than protecting his country. 

The man swung his sword towards Athos who easily dodged out of the way, before going on the offensive himself. The fight was brief but energetic. Athos was pleased that the injury to his shoulder did not compromise his fighting. The pockmarked man looked shocked when he looked down at Athos’ sword as it was pulled from his gut. Athos watched the man crumple to the floor before moving swiftly on to find another target.

He looked around himself. They had guessed that Droit had about thirty men in his pay, there were twenty Musketeers, not counting Aramis and d’Artagnan, which Athos saw as an even fight. The Musketeers were well trained, disciplined men who followed orders. The guards they were fighting were likely to be mercenaries and hired fighters who were more likely to think only of their own wellbeing when faced with a troop of soldiers. 

Athos could hear fighting in the room that Porthos and three other men had entered. Porthos had glanced across and nodded to Athos that he and the men with him would be able to deal with its occupants. 

Some of the men who had entered from the back of the house were making their way to the hallway having cleared the rooms they passed. Athos looked towards Treville and indicated that he had the situation under control. Treville nodded and led his men up the stairs. 

The sounds of fighting and furniture being overturned could soon be heard from the upper floors. Athos saw no sign of Aramis or d’Artagnan guessing that they were still searching for Droit.

MMMM

D’Artagnan dodged out of the way of a falling man, nodding to a cadet as he went. The cadet returned the nod before heading back into the affray to find another guard to engage. Aramis stepped over the fallen man, glancing down as he did so. The man was young, about the same age as d’Artagnan, too young to die in such a way thought Aramis sadly.

They found themselves in a hallway, large portraits dominated the walls, Aramis recognised one as Droit, he wondered if the self-important man had any idea that he was about to get his comeuppance. 

D’Artagnan led the way towards a closed door, reaching for the handle and pushing the door open. Aramis allowed his lover to take the lead, d’Artagnan had been further into the chateau when he allowed himself to be taken captive. The room d’Artagnan had entered was a library, with books lining all the walls. 

Droit and one of his guards were in the room. Aramis could not help a smile when Droit stared at him. Recognising the man who now stood before him in his Musketeer’s uniform as the man who had only a few hours ago bought his latest batch of potential slaves. The realisation that he had been deceived palpable. 

The guard, Aramis remembered his red doublet, was the one that had threatened to shoot d’Artagnan. As they were preparing to make the assault on the château d’Artagnan had mentioned the guard, called Michel, saying that the man was particularly creepy towards the captives. D’Artagnan had described the man as predatory. 

Droit was busy burning paperwork, trying to get rid of evidence. Michel advanced on the two intruders, his gun drawn. Aramis pulled his gun from his belt and fired, hitting Michel on the shoulder. The wound was not fatal, but it would slow the man down enough. D’Artagnan pulled his sword and stepped up to the man. 

Michel smirked, Aramis realised the man was left-handed, the wound on his right shoulder was not going to affect the man quite as much as it could have done. Other than Michel’s wound being fresh both men were equally handicapped. D’Artagnan was still suffering from his own gunshot wound. But Aramis had every faith in his lover. He drew his second gun ready but wanted to allow d’Artagnan to exact his revenge against the man who had threatened to kill him earlier in the day. 

Droit was watching the fight with a shocked expression. He had paused his attempts to destroy the evidence of his wrongdoings and was watching mesmerised. Aramis kept half an eye on the man but guessed he was not too much of a threat to them. The man clearly relied too much on his guards. 

D’Artagnan might not have been completely fit, but he was still a far superior swordsman compared to Michel. It did not take him long to slice at the man’s arm causing Michel to step back. His expression furious. Aramis chuckled, enjoying the show, his lover stepped in for another thrust. 

Aramis enjoyment of the fight quickly changed to worry as Michel managed to step forward, avoided d’Artagnan’s blade and pushed the young man backwards. D’Artagnan slammed into a table dropping his sword, the air knocked out of him. 

Michel raised his swords ready to kill d'Artagnan. Aramis could not allow that, he quickly moved to a more suitable firing position and raised the gun in his hand. He did not think about what he was doing, he acted on instinct to protect his lover from harm. He fired, the ball hitting the man in the temple. Michel crumpled to the floor, the sword falling with him. 

A few seconds of silence, broken only by d’Artagnan’s panted breaths, followed. 

D’Artagnan looked across at Aramis, he smiled for a few seconds’ but his smile faltered as he looked beyond Aramis. Aramis turned, following d’Artagnan’s gaze to find himself staring at Droit who had moved to stand behind his desk, a gun in his hand aimed squarely at Aramis who could do nothing to protect himself. He had not had time to reload his own gun and Droit was too far away to reach with his sword.

Droit fired his gun.


	12. Chapter 12

D’Artagnan looked at Aramis, grateful to his lover for saving his life again. He had lost count of the number of times the man had saved him. Aramis smiled, the relief filling his eyes as he did so. 

A movement behind Aramis caught d’Artagnan’s attention he refocused on Droit who was now behind his desk reaching into a drawer. D’Artagnan remembered his earlier confrontation with the man when he had pulled a gun from the same draw. D’Artagnan realised he was doing the same now. Aramis had noticed that d’Artagnan was looking behind him. He turned to face Droit who raised the gun aiming it at Aramis.

D’Artagnan realised he had seconds to save his lover. He wrenched his own gun from his belt, raised it and fired. His shot was a fraction of a second before Droit’s, but it did not prevent the man from firing. Aramis moved to the side reaching up to his hand as he did so, curling his fingers around his right arm. D’Artagnan realised his lover had been hit. Before Droit had fallen to the ground d’Artagnan was at Aramis’ side.

‘Show me,’ he said, unable to hide his worry.

D’Artagnan had his hands on Aramis, trying to guide the man to sit down, worried he would collapse.

‘It’s alright,’ replied Aramis.

Aramis looked a little shocked and confused.

‘No...he hit you,’ said d’Artagnan, ‘show me...I wasn’t quick enough, I should have been quicker.’

Aramis looked at d’Artagnan with continued confusion, ‘he didn’t hit me.’

‘But…’

Aramis smiled at him before moving his hand from his arm, revealing a tear to his doublet where the ball had ripped through the leather.

‘I thought he had hit me as well, but the ball missed me,’ Aramis said, a slight shake to his voice.

D’Artagnan stared at his lover for a few seconds before the relief washed over him.

‘I really thought…’

‘I know you did…’ said Aramis, ‘but I’m fine. Really fine.’

D’Artagnan looked at Aramis for a few seconds, unsure how to react. He had been convinced his lover had been injured.

‘Well next time don’t let it come that close,’ admonished d’Artagnan as he grabbed his lover in a tight embrace.

‘I will do my best,’ replied Aramis, his voice muffled by their closeness. 

D’Artagnan pushed Aramis to arm’s length, looking at him again before he decided he needed to be doubly sure that Aramis had not been shot and pulled the ripped leather apart.

‘It didn’t even damage your shirt,’ he said.

‘I told you. It was very close, but I have not been hit. I may need to visit your other lover for some repairs.’

‘I’m sure she will be happy to oblige,’ said d’Artagnan with a smile.

MMMM

Porthos and the cadet he was fighting next to had managed to pick two of the better fighters amongst the guards.

‘Watch your footwork, Antoine,’ called Porthos, ‘I’ll have you doing drills when we get back.’

Antoine did not let the distraction affect his work, he merely took the advice and carried on. Porthos was impressed, knowing the young man was already a capable cadet and would easily gain his commission, perhaps even after this mission.

With a flourish, Porthos finished off the man in front of him. The man clutched at the wound to his gut as he sank to his knees before slumping sideways to the floor. Antoine made a last thrust forward impaling his man deeply on his sword.

Porthos looked around the room and realised they were the only two left. The other men they had entered with were now in the hallway finishing off the last of Droit’s men.

‘It’s alright,’ said Antoine quietly.

Porthos looked towards the cadet who was leaning forward holding his hand out to someone. Porthos took a couple of steps forward and saw a terrified looking young woman cowering in the corner of the room. She looked towards Porthos and seemed to try to make herself even smaller.

Antoine glanced back to Porthos, ‘I’ll stay with her,’ he said.

Porthos nodded and was about to step away when the woman spoke.

‘Are you...are you soldiers?’

Porthos smiled, ‘yes we are. We’re Musketeers.’

The woman’s eyes flicked from Antoine to Porthos a few times before she reached out to the hand that the cadet was still holding out. She allowed him to pull her to her feet and to a chair which she sat in slowly.

‘Have you killed all the men...even Monsieur Droit?’ she asked looking about her.

‘If he ain’t dead yet, he will be soon,’ reassured Porthos.

The woman sniffed a few times, ‘thank you,’ she said.

Antoine looked a little confused, ‘but haven’t we just put you out of a job?’

The woman smiled for a few seconds, ‘I don’t care. Those men, they were...brutes...I saw what they were doing to the young men and the boys that they had taken.’

Porthos looked around the room for a second before crossing to a sideboard with a few bottles of spirits. He poured a small glass for the woman who took the offered drink with a shaking hand. She sipped the spirit for a few seconds before speaking again.

‘The men used to grab at us,’ she said, ‘none of the girls were ignored, we all got touched. We’ve only been here a few months, Monsieur Droit offered us a good wage...but we quickly learned why.’

She sipped the drink again before looking at them both.

‘Will we be in trouble? Will we be arrested?’

‘No,’ said Porthos, ‘you will all be allowed to go.’

The woman smiled at him.

‘Thank you.’

MMMM

They had spent some time clearing the chateau, the bodies of the guards and Droit were buried in the wood just beyond the boundary of the property. The male servants had gladly helped to dig the graves. A couple of them revealed that they had been destined to be sold but had been rejected by a previous buyer. Droit had simply enslaved them himself and took them with him. 

Most of the servants had lived relatively close by and were keen to leave. Treville ensured they were paid, he had to resort to using small items of property from the chateau. 

A handful of the Musketeers had received minor injuries. None of which needed more than a few stitches. Aramis was kept busy dealing with the men for a couple of hours. 

Porthos and Athos searched the house to remove any incriminating evidence. The property would be taken by the Crown, but they did not want to leave anything that could cause questions to be asked. 

D’Artagnan and Noah had helped the servants, helping the ones that lived further afield to choose horses from the stable and ensuring they had enough food and provisions for their journeys. 

It was decided, due to the late hour that they would spend the night at the chateau and begin their assorted journeys the following morning. 

The men split themselves up across the large chateau for the night. Athos poured the small group that had gathered in one of the receptions rooms a glass of wine each. D’Artagnan had found some fancy crystal glasses for them to drink from. 

‘Do you think this sort of thing is going on in other places?’ asked d’Artagnan as he took his glass of wine.

‘Probably,’ replied Athos, ‘but it is almost impossible to keep track of it.’

Aramis sighed, ‘man is quite an intolerable species,’ he remarked.

‘Not all of us are intolerable,’ said Porthos with a grin.

‘I will make an exception for you, my friend,’ replied Aramis, smiling.

They drank their wine for a few minutes. Athos watched Noah sipping from his glass.

‘Have you had wine before?’ he asked.

‘No,’ replied the former slave, ‘I’m not sure if I like it or not.’

Porthos laughed, ‘be careful that you do not get to like it too much,’ he said.

Athos walked to the sideboard and collected a box, he handed it to Noah who took it with a confused look. Athos indicated for him to open it. Noah looked shocked when he saw the contents.

‘We thought you deserved to have that,’ said Aramis, ‘you probably did as much work as Travert, however unwillingly, so it made sense for you to have the money he made.’

Noah was poking at the coins within the box that had belonged to his former master. He looked up at them all.

‘I...I don’t know what to say,’ he stammered, ‘thank you.’

‘Just spend it wisely,’ said Athos as he took his seat, ‘and the offer still stands for you to stay at the garrison for a while until you find yourself somewhere to live and a job. I spoke to our Captain and he is more than happy to help you out.’

Noah looked a little overwhelmed. He smiled at them all, before rising from his seat.

‘If you don’t mind, I’d like to go to bed...that’s something else I’ve rarely had the chance to do,’ he said, ‘sleep in a real bed.’

The others watched him go. The chateau had many bedrooms with enough rooms for each man to be able to sleep in a bed for the night, although a few of the men would have to share. None of them minded, sharing a bed was better than camping in the open. 

‘Judging by the care he took of your shoulder,’ stated Aramis, ‘I think he would make a fairly good medic. We might have to put in a word with Lemay, see if he knows of any positions Noah would be suitable for.’

‘I’ll talk to Lemay when we get back,’ said Athos.

‘What about Gosse?’ asked Porthos looking across to d’Artagnan who was finishing his glass of wine.

‘He’s going to look for work as well, I know they are looking for footmen at the Palace, I’m going to put a word in for him with Constance and the Queen,’ said d’Artagnan.

‘Poor lad’s been through a lot, it’s about time he had some good luck,’ said Porthos.

Athos nodded as he poured them all more wine.

MMMM

Unsurprisingly Aramis had managed to find them a room to share on their own. The large four poster bed was very opulent compared to his lover’s small bed in Paris. Even if it was only for one night it made a welcome change. The door was sturdy and had a good quality lock so they would not be disturbed meaning that they could have probably done anything they wanted. But both men were tired and really just wanted to sleep before journeying back to Paris the following morning. 

After the hours spent in the cellar of the chateau and watching his lover almost killed twice, all d’Artagnan wanted to do was hold Aramis and make sure he did not disappear.

They had stripped off and slipped between the expensive sheets. Aramis had allowed d’Artagnan to dictate how they entwined themselves. Aramis knew that d’Artagnan’s shoulder was still bothering him and probably would for a few more weeks, particularly after the last few days of overexertion. 

Noah had suggested a balm that he had in his own medical bag that would help to ease the stiffness. Aramis had spent some time before they got into bed rubbing the balm into the affected area. D’Artagnan had enjoyed the touch and closeness of his lover.

D’Artagnan had curled himself around Aramis their feet tangled together. For a few minutes they simply lay together. D’Artagnan wished he could stay where he was, holding onto his lover forever.

‘What would you have done,’ said d’Artagnan as he tightened his grip slightly around Aramis’ waist, ‘if I had been sold to be a slave?’

Aramis was quiet for a few seconds before replying, ‘I’d have gone after you, and got you back.’

Aramis laced his fingers between d’Artagnan’s as he spoke, clutching the hand firmly. D’Artagnan wondered if his lover would ever let him out of his sight again.

‘You do realise though...’ said Aramis after another few moments, ‘that, technically I do own you now.’

D’Artagnan was glad Aramis was turned away from him and could not see the scowl his remark had caused. He hated it when his lover got possessive. Aramis could probably sense the slight change in d’Artagnan.

‘I bought you earlier today,’ he continued unable to hide the slight mirth from his voice any longer, ‘I paid for you.’

Aramis pulled away from d’Artagnan and twisted to lie on his back looking across to his lover who was still lying on his side looking at him with raised eyebrows.

‘So really, you can’t accuse me of being possessive, because I do actually possess you now.’

D’Artagnan shook his head, ‘you’re incorrigible...I shall run away at the first opportunity.’

Aramis pretended to be hurt by the remark before grabbing d’Artagnan firmly, pulling him close enough for their bodies to be pressed together. 

‘You can try.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos and comments, I hope you enjoyed it. I am working on the next part (and the part after that).


End file.
